A/A  AN  DA 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


MABEL  R.  GILLIS 


BY 

AMANDA    M.    DOUGLAS 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  NEW  YORK," 

"SHERBURNE  STORIES,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,    MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 

BY 
DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY. 


THE  MERSHON  COMPANY  PRESS, 
RAHWAY,  N.  J. 


SALLIE  BUFFUM: 

To  you,  who  have  been  a  little  girl  in  later  Boston, 
I  inscribe  this  story  of  another  little  girl  who  lived 
almost  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  found  life  busy  and 
pleasant  and  full  of  affection,  as  I  hope  it  will  prove 

to  you. 

AMANDA  M.  DOUGLAS. 

NEWARK,  N.  J.,  1898. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  FAQS 

I.      DORIS, | 

II.    IN  A  NEW  HOME, 15 

III.  AUNT  PRISCILLA, 29 

IV.  OUT  TO  TEA,          .        .        ....        .          42 

V.  A  MORNING  AT  SCHOOL,    .        .        ,.       .        .        .57 

VI.  A  BIRTHDAY  PARTY,      ...        .        .        .          73 

VII.  ABOUT  A  GOWN,         .        .        .        .                .        .89 

VIII.  SINFUL  OR  NOT  ?     .        .        .        .        .        . .      .         106 

IX.  WHAT  WINTER  BROUGHT,          .       .       .       .        .121 

X.  CONCERNING  MANY  THINGS,          ,        *       .                145 

XI.    A  LITTLE  CHRISTMAS 161 

XII.  A  CHILDREN'S  PARTY,            .        .        ,        .        .         178 

XIII.  VARIOUS  OPINIONS  OF  LITTLE  GIXLS,        .        .        .    196 

XIV.  IN  THE  SPRING 213 

XV.  A  FREEDOM  SUIT,       .......     226 

XVI.  A  SUMMER  IN  BOSTON,           .        ...        .        243 

XVII.  ANOTHER  GIRL,           .        .        .        ...        .    262 

XVIII.  WINTER  AND  SORROW,   .        .        .        .        .        .        276 

XIX.  THE  HIGH  RESOLVE  OF  YOUTH,       .        .        .        .    291 

XX.  A  VISITOR  FOR  DORIS,           ...       .       .        .        306 

XXI.  ELIZABETH  AND — PEACE,    .      , .,       .        »       •        .    324 

XXII.  GARY  ADAMS,          .        .        ,        .        .                .        34c 

XXIII.  THE  COST  OF  WOMANHOOD,      .       .       .       .       .    35* 

XXIV.  THK  BLOOM  OF  LIFE — Lov«,          ....        367 


"»  c.  ': 


A   LITTLE  GIRL  IN  OLD  BOSTON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DORIS. 

"  T     DO  suppose  she  is  a  Papist!    The  French  generally 

are,"  said  Aunt  Priscilla,  drawing  her  brows  in  a 

delicate  sort  of  frown,  and  sipping  her  tea  with  a  spoon 

that  had  the  London  crown  mark,  and  had  been  buried 

early  in  revolutionary  times. 

"  Why,  there  were  all  the  Huguenots  who  emigrated 
from  France  for  the  sake  of  worshiping  God  in  their 
own  way  rather  than  that  of  the  Pope.  We  Puritans  did 
not  take  all  the  free-will,"  declared  Betty  spiritedly. 

"  You  are  too  flippant,  Betty,"  returned  Aunt  Priscilla 
severely.  "  And  I  doubt  if  her  father's  people  had  much 
experimental  religion.  Then,  she  has  been  living  in  a 
very  hot-bed  of  superstition !  " 

"The  cold,  dreary  Lincolnshire  coast!  I  think  it 
would  take  a  good  deal  of  zeal  to  warm  me,  even  if  it  was 
superstition." 

"And  she  was  in  a  convent  after  her  mother  died! 
Yes,  she  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  Papist.  It  seems  rather 
queer  that  second-cousin  Charles  should  have  remem 
bered  her  in  his  will." 

"  But  Charles  was  his  namesake  and  nephew,  the  child 
of  his  favorite  sister,"  interposed  Mrs.  Leverett,  glancing 
deprecatingly  at  Betty,  pleading  with  the  most  beseech- 


2  A   LITTLE  GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

ing  eyes  that  she  should  not  ruffle  Aunt  Priscilla  up  the 
wrong  way. 

"  But  what  is  that  old  ma'shland  good  for,  anyway?  " 
asked  Aunt  Priscilla. 

"Why  they  are  filling  in  and  building  docks,"  said 
Betty  the  irrepressible.  "  Father  thinks  by  the  time  she 
is  grown  it  will  be  a  handsome  fortune." 

Aunt  Priscilla  gave  a  queer  sound  that  was  not  a  sniff, 
but  had  a  downward  tendency,  as  if  it  was  formed  of  in 
harmonious  consonants.  It  expressed  both  doubt  and 
disapproval. 

"  But  think  of  the  expense  and  the  taxes!  You  can't 
put  a  bit  of  improvement  on  anything  but  the  taxes  eat 
it  up.  I  want  my  hall  door  painted,  and  the  cornishes," 
— Aunt  Priscilla  always  would  pronounce  it  that  way, — 
"  but  I  mean  to  wait  until  the  assessor  has  been  round. 
It's  the  best  time  to  paint  in  cool  weather,  too.  I  can't 
afford  to  pay  a  man  for  painting  and  then  pay  the  city 
for  the  privilege." 

No  one  controverted  Mrs.  Perkins.  She  broke  off 
her  bread  in  bits  and  sipped  her  tea. 

"  Why  didn't  they  give  her  some  kind  of  a  Christian 
name? "  she  began  suddenly.  "  Don't  you  suppose  it 
is  French  for  the  plain,  old-fashioned,  sensible  name  of 
Dorothy?  " 

Betty  laughed.  "  Oh,  Aunt  Priscilla,  it's  pure  Greek. 
Doris  and  Phyllis  and  Chloe " 

"  Phyllis  and  Chloe  are  regular  nigger  names,"  with 
the  utmost  disdain. 

"  But  Greek,  all  the  same.     Ask  Uncle  Winthrop." 

"Well,  I  shall  call  her  Dorothy.  I'm  neither  Greek 
nor  Latin  nor  a  college  professor.  There's  no  law 
against  my  being  sensible,  fursisee " — which  really 
meant  "  far  as  I  see."  "  And  the  idea  of  appointing 
Winthrop  Adams  her  guardian!  I  did  think  second- 


DORIS.  3 

cousin  Charles  had  more  sense.  Winthrop  thinks  of 
nothing  but  books  and  going  back  to  the  Creation  of  the 
World,  just  as  if  the  Lord  couldn't  have  made  things 
straight  in  the  beginning  without  his  help.  I  dare  say 
he  will  find  out  what  language  they  talked  before  the 
dispersion  of  Babel.  People  are  growing  so  wise  now 
adays,  turning  the  Bible  inside  out!  "  and  she  gave  her 
characteristic  sniff.  "  I'll  have  another  cup  of  tea,  Eliza 
beth.  Now  that  we're  through  with  the  war,  and  settled 
solid-like  with  a  President  at  the  helm,  we  can  look 
forward  to  something  permanent,  and  comfort  ourselves 
that  it  was  worth  trying  for.  Still,  I've  often  thought  of 
that  awful  waste  of  tea  in  Boston  harbor.  Seems  as 
though  they  might  have  done  something  else  with  it. 
Tea  will  keep  a  good  long  while.  And  all  that  wretched 
ptuff  we  used  to  drink  and  call  it  Liberty  tea!  " 

"  I  don't  know  as  we  regret  many  of  the  sacrifices, 
though  it  came  harder  on  the  older  people.  We  have  a 
good  deal  to  be  proud  of,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett. 

"  And  a  grandfather  who  was  at  Bunker  Hill,"  ap 
pended  Betty. 

Aunt  Priscilla  never  quite  knew  where  she  belonged. 
She  had  come  over  with  the  Puritans,  at  least  her  ances 
tors  had,  but  then  there  had  been  a  title  in  the  English 
branch;  and  though  she  scoffed  a  little,  she  had  great 
respect  for  royalty,  and  secretly  regretted  they  had  not 
called  the  head  of  the  government  by  a  more  dignified 
appellation  than  President.  Her  mother  had  been  a 
Church  of  England  member,  but  rather  austere  Mr. 
Adams  believed  that  wives  were  to  submit  themselves 
to  their  husbands  in  matters  of  belief  as  well  as  aught 
else.  Then  Priscilla  Adams,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  had 
wedded  the  man  of  her  father's  choice,  Hatfield  Perkins, 
who  was  a  stanch  upholder  of  the  Puritan  faith.  Pris 
cilla  would  have  enjoyed  a  little  foolish  love-making,  and 


4  A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD  BOSTON. 

she  had  a  carnal  hankering  for  fine  gowns;  and,  oh,  how 
she  did  long  to  dance  in  her  youth,  when  she  was  slim 
and  light-footed! 

In  spite  of  all,  she  had  been  a  true  Puritan  outwardly, 
and  had  a  little  misgiving  that  the  prayers  of  the  Church 
were  vain  repetitions,  the  organ  wickedly  frivolous,  and 
the  ringing  of  bells  suggestive  of  popery.  There  had 
been  no  children,  and  a  bad  fall  had  lamed  her  husband 
so  that  volunteering  for  a  soldier  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion,  but  he  had  assisted  with  his  means ;  and  some  twelve 
years  before  this  left  his  widow  in  comfortable  circum 
stances  for  the  times. 

She  kept  to  her  plain  dress,  although  it  was  rich;  and 
her  housemaid  was  an  elderly  black  woman  who  had 
been  a  slave  in  her  childhood.  She  devoted  a  good  deal 
of  thought  as  to  who  should  inherit  her  property  when 
she  was  done  with  it.  For  those  she  held  in  the  highest 
esteem  were  elderly  like  herself,  and  the  young  people 
were  flighty  and  extravagant  and  despised  the  good  old 
ways  of  prudence  and  thrift. 

They  were  having  early  tea  at  Mrs.  Leverett's.  Aunt 
Priscilla's  mother  had  been  half-sister  to  Mrs.  Leverett's 
mother.  In  the  old  days  of  large  families  nearly  every 
one  came  to  be  related.  It  was  always  very  cozy  in 
Sudbury  Street,  and  Foster  Leverett  was  in  the  ship 
chandlery  trade.  Aunt  Priscilla  did  love  a  good  cup  of 
tea.  Whether  the  quality  was  finer,  or  there  was  some 
peculiar  art  in  brewing  it,  she  could  never  quite  decide; 
or  whether  the  social  cream  of  gentle  Elizabeth  Leverett, 
and  the  spice  of  Betty,  added  to  the  taste  and  heightened 
the  flavor  beyond  her  solitary  cup. 

Early  October  had  already  brought  chilling  airs  when 
evening  set  in.  A  century  or  so  ago  autumn  had  the 
sharpness  of  coming  winter  in  the  early  morning  and 
after  sundown.  There  was  a  cheerful  wood  fire  on  the 


DORIS.  5 

hearth,  and  its  blaze  lighted  the  room  sufficiently,  as  the 
red  light  of  the  sunset  poured  through  a  large  double 
window. 

The  house  had  a  wide  hall  through  the  center  that 
was  really  the  keeping-room.  The  chimney  stood  about 
halfway  down,  a  great  stone  affair  built  out  in  the  room, 
tiled  about  with  Scriptural  scenes,  with  two  tiers  of 
shelves  above,  whereon  were  ranged  the  family  heir 
looms — so  high,  indeed,  that  a  stool  had  to  be  used  to 
stand  on  when  they  were  dusted.  Just  below  this  began 
a  winding  staircase  with  carved  spindles  and  a  mahogany 
rail  and  newel,  considered  quite  an  extravagance  in  that 
day. 

This  lower  end  was  the  living  part.  In  one  of  the 
corners  was  built  the  buffet,  while  a  door  opposite  led 
into  the  wide  kitchen.  Across  the  back  was  a  porch 
where  shutters  were  hung  in  the  winter  to  keep  out  the 
cold. 

The  great  dining  table  was  pushed  up  against  the  wall. 
The  round  tea  table  was  set  out  and  the  three  ladies  were 
having  their  tea,  quite  a  common  custom  when  there  was 
a  visitor,  as  the  men  folk  were  late  coming  in  and  a  little 
uncertain. 

On  one  side  the  hall  opened  in  two  large,  well- 
appointed  rooms.  On  the  other  were  the  kitchen  and 
"  mother's  room,"  where,  when  the  children  were  little, 
there  had  been  a  cradle  and  a  trundle  bed.  But  one  son 
and  two  daughters  were  married;  one  son  was  in  his 
father's  warehouse,  and  was  now  about  twenty;  the  next 
baby  boy  had  died;  and  Betty,  the  youngest,  was  sixteen, 
pretty,  and  a  little  spoiled,  of  course.  Yet  Aunt  Priscilla 
had  a  curious  fondness  for  her,  which  she  insisted  to  her 
self  was  very  reprehensible,  since  Betty  was  such  a 
feather-brained  girl. 

"  It  is  to  be  hoped  the  ship  did  get  in  to-day,"  Aunt 


6  A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Priscilla  began  presently.  "  If  there's  anything  I  hate, 
it's  being  on  tenterhooks." 

"  She  was  spoken  this  morning.  There's  always  more 
or  less  delay  with  pilots  and  tides  and  what  not,"  replied 
Mrs.  Leverett. 

"The  idea  of  sending  a  child  like  that  alone!  The 
weather  has  been  fine,  but  we  don't  know  how  it  was  on 
the  ocean." 

"  Captain  Grier  is  a  friend  of  Uncle  Win's,  you  know," 
appended  Betty. 

"  Betty,  do  try  and  call  your  relatives  by  their  proper 
names.  An  elderly  man,  too!  It  does  sound  so  disre 
spectful  !  Young  folks  of  to-day  seem  to  have  no  regard 
for  what  is  due  other  people.  Oh " 

There  was  a  kind  of  stamping  and  shuffling  on  the 
porch,  and  the  door  was  flung  open,  letting  in  a  gust  of 
autumnal  air  full  of  spicy  odors  from  the  trees  and  vines 
outside.  Betty  sprang  up,  while  her  mother  followed 
more  slowly.  There  were  her  father  and  her  brother 
Warren,  and  the  latter  had  by  the  hand  the  little 
girl  who  had  crossed  the  ocean  to  come  to  the  famous 
city  of  the  New  World,  Boston.  Almost  two  hun 
dred  years  before  an  ancestor  had  crossed  from  old 
Boston,  in  the  ship  Arabella,  and  settled  here,  taking 
his  share  of  pilgrim  hardships.  Doris'  father,  when  a 
boy,  had  been  sent  back  to  England  to  be  adopted  as 
the  heir  of  a  long  line.  But  the  old  relative  married 
and  had  two  sons  of  his  own,  though  he  did  well  by  the 
boy,  who  went  to  France  and  married  a  pretty  French 
girl.  After  seven  years  of  unbroken  happiness  the 
sweet  young  wife  had  died.  Then  little  Doris,  six  years 
of  age,  had  spent  two  years  in  a  convent.  From  there 
her  father  had  taken  her  to  Lincolnshire  and  placed 
her  with  two  elderly  relatives,  while  he  was  planning  and 
arranging  his  affairs  to  come  back  to  America  with  his 


DORIS.  7 

little  daughter.  But  one  night,  being  out  with  a  sailing 
party,  a  sudden  storm  had  caught  them  and  swept  them 
out  of  life  in  an  instant. 

Second-cousin  Charles  Adams  had  been  in  corre 
spondence  with  him,  and  advised  him  to  return.  Being 
in  feeble  health,  he  had  included  him  and  his  heirs  in  his 
will,  appointing  his  nephew  Winthrop  Adams  executor, 
and  died  before  the  news  of  the  death  of  his  distant  rela 
tive  had  reached  him.  The  Lincolnshire  ladies  were  too 
old  to  have  the  care  and  rearing  of  a  child,  so  Mr.  Win 
throp  Adams  had  sent  by  Captain  Grier  to  bring  over  the 
little  girl.  Her  father's  estate,  not  very  large,  was  in 
money  and  easily  managed.  And  now  little  Doris  was 
nearing  ten. 

"  Oh!  "  cried  Betty,  hugging  the  slim  figure  in  the  red 
camlet  cloak,  and  peering  into  the  queer  big  hat  tied 
down  over  her  ears  with  broad  ribbons  that,  what  with 
the  big  bow  and  the  wide  rim,  almost  hid  her  face;  but 
she  saw  two  soft  lovely  eyes  and  cherry-red  lips  that  she 
kissed  at  once,  though  kissing  had  not  come  in  fashion 
to  any  great  extent,  and  was  still  considered  by  many 
people  rather  dubious  if  not  positively  sinful. 

"  Oh,  little  Doris,  welcome  to  Boston  and  the  United 
Colonies  and  the  whole  of  America!  Let  me  see  how 
you  look,"  and  she  untied  the  wide  strings. 

The  head  that  emerged  was  covered  with  fair  curling 
hair;  the  complexion  was  clear,  but  a  little  wind-burned 
from  her  long  trip;  the  eyes  were  very  dark,  but  of  the 
deepest,  softest  blue,  that  suggested  twilight.  There  was 
a  dimple  in  the  dainty  chin,  and  the  mouth  had  a  half- 
frightened,  half-wistful  smile. 

"  Captain  Grier  will  send  up  her  boxes  to-morrow. 
They  got  aground  and  were  delayed.  I  began  to  think 
they  would  have  to  stay  out  all  night.  The  captain 
will  bring  up  a  lot  of  papers  for  Winthrop,  and  every- 


8  A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

thing,"  explained  Mr.  Leverett.  "  Are  you  cold,  little 
one?" 

Doris  gave  a  great  shiver  as  her  cloak  was  taken  off, 
but  it  was  more  nervousness  than  cold,  and  the  glances 
of  the  strange  faces.  Then  she  walked  straight  to  the 
fireplace. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  fire !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  No,  I 
am  not  cold  " — and  the  wistful  expression  wandered 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"  This  is  my  daughter  Betty,  and  this  is — why,  you 
may  as  well  begin  by  saying  Aunt  Elizabeth  at  once. 
How  are  you,  Aunt  Priscilla?  This  is  our  little  French- 
English  girl,  but  I  hope  she  will  turn  into  a  stanch  Bos 
ton  girl.  Now,  mother,  let's  have  a  good  supper.  I'm 
hungry  as  a  wolf." 

Doris  caught  Betty's  hand  again  and  pressed  it  to  her 
cheek.  The  smiling  face  won  her  at  once. 

"  Did  you  have  a  pleasant  voyage? "  asked  Mrs. 
Leverett,  as  she  was  piling  up  the  cups  and  saucers,  and 
paused  to  smile  at  the  little  stranger. 

"  There  were  some  storms,  and  I  was  afraid  then.  It 
made  me  think  of  papa.  But  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
sunshine.  And  I  was  quite  ill  at  first,  but  the  captain 
was  very  nice,  and  Mrs.  Jewett  had  two  little  girls,  so 
after  a  while  we  played  together.  And  then  I  think  we 
forgot  all  about  being  at  sea — it  was  so  like  a  house, 
except  there  were  no  gardens  or  fields  and  trees." 

Mrs.  Leverett  went  out  to  the  kitchen,  and  soon  there 
was  the  savory  smell  of  frying  sausage.  Betty  placed 
Doris  in  a  chair  by  the  chimney  corner  and  began  to  re 
arrange  the  table.  Warren  went  out  to  the  kitchen  and, 
as  by  the  farthest  window  there  was  a  sort  of  high  bench 
with  a  tin  basin,  a  pail  of  water,  and  a  long  roller  towel, 
he  began  to  wash  his  face  and  hands,  telling  his  mother 
meanwhile  the  occurrences  of  the  last  two  or  three  hours. 


DORIS.  9 

Aunt  Priscilla  drew  up  her  chair  and  surveyed  the 
little  traveler  with  some  curiosity.  She  was  rather 
shocked  that  the  child  was  not  dressed  in  mourning,  and 
now  she  discovered  that  her  little  gown  was  of  brocaded 
silk  and  much  furbelowed,  at  which  she  frowned  severely. 

True,  her  father  had  been  dead  more  than  a  year;  but 
her  being  an  orphan  made  it  seem  as  if  she  should  still 
be  in  the  depths  of  woe.  And  she  had  earrings  and  a 
brooch  in  the  lace  tucker.  She  gave  her  sniff — it  was 
very  wintry  and  contemptuous. 

"  I  suppose  that's  the  latest  French  fashion,"  she  said 
sharply.  "  If  I  lived  in  England  I  should  just  despise 
French  clothes." 

"Oh,"  said  Doris,  "do  you  mean  my  gown?  Miss 
Arabella  made  it  for  me.  When  she  was  a  young  lady 
she  went  up  to  London  to  see  the  king  crowned,  and  they 
had  a  grand  ball,  and  this  was  one  of  the  gowns  she  had — 
not  the  ball  dress,  for  that  was  white  satin  with  roses 
sprinkled  over  it.  She's  very  old  now,  and  she  gave  that 
to  her  cousin  for  a  wedding  dress.  And  she  made  this 
over  for  me.  I  got  some  tar  on  my  blue  stuff  gown 
yesterday,  and  the  others  were  so  thin  Mrs.  Jewett 
thought  I  had  better  put  on  this,  but  it  is  my  very  best 
gown." 

The  artless  sincerity  and  the  soft  sweet  voice  quite 
nonplused  Aunt  Priscilla.  Then  Warren  returned  and 
dropped  on  a  three-cornered  stool  standing  there,  and 
almost  tilted  over. 

"  Now,  if  I  had  gone  into  the  fire,  like  any  other  green 
log,  how  I  should  have  sizzled!  "  he  said  laughingly. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  didn't!  "  exclaimed  Doris  in 
affright.  Then  she  smiled  softly. 

"  Does  it  seem  queer  to  be  on  land  again?  " 

"  Yes.  I  want  to  rock  to  and  fro."  She  made  a  pretty 
movement  with  her  slender  body,  and  nodded  her  head. 


io         A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Are  you  very  tired?  " 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  You  were  out  five  weeks." 

"  Is  that  a  long  while?  I  was  homesick  at  first.  I 
wanted  to  see  Miss  Arabella  and  Barby.  Miss  Henrietta 
is — is — not  right  in  her  mind,  if  you  can  understand. 
And  she  is  very  old.  She  just  sits  in  her  chair  all  day 
and  mumbles.  She  was  named  for  a  queen — Henrietta 
Maria." 

Aunt  Priscilla  gave  a  disapproving  sniff. 

"  Supper's  ready,"  said  Mr.  Leverett.     "  Come." 

Warren  took  the  small  stranger  by  the  hand,  and  she 
made  a  little  courtesy,  quite  as  if  she  were  a  grown  lady. 

"  What  an  airy  little  piece  of  vanity!  "  thought  Aunt 
Priscilla.  "  And  whatever  will  Winthrop  Adams  do  with 
her,  and  no  woman  about  the  house  to  train  her! " 

Betty  came  and  poured  tea  for  her  father  and  War 
ren.  Mr.  Leverett  piled  up  her  plate,  but,  although  the 
viands  had  an  appetizing  fragrance,  Doris  was  not  hun 
gry.  Everything  was  so  new  and  strange,  and  she  could 
not  get  the  motion  of  the  ship  out  of  her  head.  But  the 
pumpkin  pie  was  delicious.  She  had  never  tasted  any 
thing  like  it. 

"  You'll  soon  be  a  genuine  Yankee  girl,"  declared 
Warren.  "  Pumpkin  pie  is  the  test." 

Mr.  Leverett  and  his  son  did  full  justice  to  the  supper. 
Then  he  had  to  go  out  to  a  meeting.  There  were  some 
clouds  drifting  over  the  skies  of  the  new  country,  and 
many  discussions  as  to  future  policy. 

"So,  Aunt  Priscilla,  I'll  beau  you  home,"  said  he; 
"  unless  you  have  a  mind  to  stay  all  night,  or  want  a 
young  fellow  like  Warren." 

"  You're  plenty  old  enough  to  be  sensible,  Foster 
Leverett,"  she  returned  sharply.  She  would  have  en 
joyed  a  longer  stay  and  was  curious  about  the  newcomer, 


DORIS.  ii 

but  when  Betty  brought  her  hat  and  shawl  she  said  a 
stiff  good-night  to  everybody  and  went  out  with  her 
escort. 

Betty  cleared  away  the  tea  things,  wiped  the  dishes 
for  her  mother  and  then  took  a  place  beside  Warren,  who 
was  very  much  interested  in  hearing  the  little  girl  talk. 
There  was  a  good  deal  of  going  back  and  forth  to  Eng 
land  although  the  journey  seemed  so  long,  but  it  was 
startling  to  have  a  child  sitting  by  the  fireside,  here  in  his 
father's  house,  who  had  lived  in  both  France  and  England. 
She  had  an  odd  little  accent,  too,  but  it  gave  her  an  added 
daintiness.  She  remembered  her  convent  life  very  well, 
and  her  stay  in  Paris  with  her  father.  It  seemed  strange 
to  him  that  she  could  talk  so  tranquilly  about  her 
parents,  but  there  had  been  so  many  changes  in  her  short 
life,  and  her  father  had  been  away  from  her  so  much! 

"  It  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  must  come  back 
again,"  she  said  with  a  serious  little  sigh,  "  as  if  he  was 
over  in  France  or  down  in  London.  It  is  so  strange  to 
have  anyone  go  away  forever  that  I  think  you  can't  take 
it  in  somehow.  And  Miss  Arabella  was  always  so  good. 
She  said  if  she  had  been  younger  she  should  never  have 
agreed  to  my  coming.  And  all  papa's  relatives  were 
here,  and  someone  who  wrote  to  her  and  settled  about 
the  journey." 

She  glanced  up  inquiringly. 

"  Yes.  That's  Uncle  Winthrop  Adams.  He  isn't  an 
own  uncle,  but  it  seems  somehow  more  respectful  to  call 
him  uncle.  Mr.  Adams  would  sound  queer.  And  he 
will  be  your  guardian." 

"  A — guardian?  " 

"  Well,  he  has  the  care  of  the  property  left  to  your 
father.  There  is  a  house  that  is  rented,  and  a  great  plot 
of  ground.  Cousin  Charles  owned  so  much  land,  and 
he  never  was  married,  so  it  had  to  go  round  to  the 


iz          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

cousins.  He  was  very  fond  of  your  father  as  a  little  boy. 
And  Uncle  Winthrop  seems  the  proper  person  to  take 
charge  of  you." 

Doris  sighed.  She  seemed  always  being  handed  from 
one  to  another. 

She  was  sitting  on  the  stool  now,  and  when  Betty 
slipped  into  the  vacant  chair  she  put  her  arm  over  the 
child's  shoulder  in  a  caressing  manner. 

"  Do  you  mean — that  I  would  have  to  go  and  live 
with  him?"  she  asked  slowly. 

Warren  laughed.  "  I  declare  I  don't  know  what 
Uncle  Win  would  do  with  a  little  girl!  Miss  Recom 
pense  Gardiner  keeps  the  house,  and  she's  as  prim  as 
the  crimped  edge  of  an  apple  pie.  And  there  is  only 
Gary." 

"  Gary  is  at  Harvard — at  college,"  explained  Betty. 
"  And,  then,  he  is  going  to  Europe  for  a  tour.  Uncle 
Win  teaches  some  classes,  and  is  a  great  Greek  and  Latin 
scholar,  and  translates  from  the  poets,  and  reads  and 
studies — is  a  regular  bookworm.  His  wife  has  been 
dead  ever  since  Gary  was  a  baby." 

"  I  wish  I  could  stay  here,"  said  Doris,  and,  reaching 
up,  she  clasped  her  arms  around  Betty's  neck.  "  I  like 
your  father,  and  your  mother  has  such  a  sweet  voice, 
and  you — and  him,"  nodding  her  head  over  to  Warren. 
"  And  since  that — the  other  lady — doesn't  live  here " 

"  Aunt  Priscilla,"  laughed  Betty.  "  I  think  she  im 
proves  on  acquaintance.  Her  bark  is  worse  than  her 
bite.  When  I  was  a  little  girl  I  thought  her  just  awful, 
and  never  wanted  to  go  there.  Now  I  quite  like  it.  I 
spend  whole  days  with  her.  But  I  shouldn't  spend  a 
night  in  praying  that  Providence  would  send  her  to  live 
with  us.  I'd  fifty  times  rather  have  you,  you  dear  little 
midget.  And,  when  everything  is  settled,  I  am  of  the 
opinion  you  will  live  with  us,  for  a  while  at  least." 


DORIS.  13 

"  I  shall  be  so  glad,"  in  a  joyous,  relieved  tone. 

"  Then  if  Uncle  Win  should  ask  you,  don't  be  afraid 
of  anybody,  but  just  say  you  want  to  stay  here.  That 
will  settle  it  unless  he  thinks  you  ought  to  go  to  school. 
But  there  are  nice  enough  schools  in  Boston.  And  I 
am  glad  you  want  to  stay.  I've  wished  a  great  many 
times  that  I  had  a  little  sister.  I  have  two,  married. 
One  lives  over  at  Salem  and  one  ever  so  far  away  at 
Hartford.  And  I  am  Aunt  Betty.  I  have  five  nephews 
and  four  nieces.  And  you  never  can  have  any,  you  soli 
tary  little  girl !  " 

"  I  think  I  don't  mind  if  I  can  have  you." 

"  This  is  love  at  first  sight.  I've  never  been  in  love 
before,  though  I  have  some  girl  friends.  And  being  in 
love  means  living  with  someone  and  wanting  them  all 
the  time,  and  a  lot  of  sweet,  foolish  stuff.  What  a  silly 
girl  I  am!  Well — you  are  to  be  my  little  sister." 

Oh,  how  sweet  it  was  to  find  home  and  affection  and 
welcome!  Doris  had  not  thought  much  about  it,  but 
now  she  was  suddenly,  unreasonably  glad.  She  laid  her 
head  down  on  Betty's  knee  and  looked  at  the  dancing 
flames,  the  purples  and  misty  grays,  the  scarlets  and 
blues  and  greens,  all  mingling,  then  sending  long  arrowy 
darts  that  ran  back  and  hid  behind  the  logs  before  you 
could  think. 

Mrs.  Leverett  kneaded  her  bread  and  stirred  up  her 
griddle  cakes  for  morning.  It  was  early  in  the  season  to 
start  with  them,  but  with  the  first  cold  whiff  Mr.  Leverett 
began  to  beg  for  them.  Then  she  fixed  her  fire,  turned 
down  her  sleeves,  took  off  the  big  apron  that  covered  all 
her  skirt,  and  rejoined  the  three  by  the  fireside. 

"  That  child  has  gone  fast  asleep,"  she  exclaimed,  look 
ing  at  her.  "  Poor  thing,  I  dare  say  she  is  all  tired  out! 
And,  man-like,  your  father  never  thought  of  her  night 
gown  or  anything  to  put  on  in  the  morning,  and  that 


14          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

silk  is  nothing  for  a  child  to  wear.  I  saw  that  it  shocked 
Aunt  Priscilla." 

"  And  she  told  the  story  of  it  so  prettily.  It  is  a  lovely 
thing — and  to  think  it  has  been  to  London  to  see  the 
king!" 

"  You  must  take  her  in  your  bed,  Betty." 

"  Oh,  of  course.  Mother,  don't  you  suppose  Uncle 
Win  will  consent  to  her  staying  here?  I  want  her." 

"  It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  you  to  have  someone 
to  look  after,  Betty.  It  would  help  steady  you  and  give 
you  some  sense  of  responsibility.  The  youngest  child 
always  gets  spoiled.  Your  father  was  speaking  of  it.  I 
can't  imagine  a  child  in  Uncle  Winthrop's  household." 

Betty  laughed.  "  Nor  in  Aunt  Priscilla's,"  she  ap 
pended. 

"  Poor  little  thing!  How  pretty  she  is.  And  what  a 
long  journey  to  take — and  to  come  among  strangers! 
Yes,  she  must  go  to  bed  at  once." 

"  I'll  carry  her  upstairs,"  said  Warren. 

"  Nonsense !  "  protested  his  mother. 

But  he  did  for  all  that,  and  when  he  laid  her  on  Betty's 
cold  bed  she  roused  and  smiled,  and  suffered  herself  to 
be  made  ready  for  slumber.  Then  she  slipped  down  on 
her  knees,  and  said  "  Our  Father  in  Heaven  "  in  soft, 
sleepy  French.  Her  mother  had  taught  her  that.  And 
in  English  she  repeated: 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,"  in  remembrance  of  her 
father,  and  kissed  Betty.  But  she  had  hardly  touched 
the  pillow  when  she  was  asleep  again  in  her  new  home, 
Boston. 


IN   A   NEW   HOME.  15 

CHAPTER   II. 

IN   A    NEW   HOME. 

HP  HE  sun  was  shining  when  Doris  opened  her  eyes, 
and  she  rubbed  them  to  make  sure  she  was  not 
dreaming.  There  was  no  motion,  and  her  bed  was  so 
soft  and  wide.  She  sat  up  straight,  half-startled,  and 
she  seemed  in  a  well  of  fluffy  feathers.  There  were  two 
white  curtained  windows  and  a  straight  splint  chair  at 
each  one,  with  a  queer  little  knob  on  the  top  of  the  post 
that  suggested  a  sprite  from  some  of  the  old  legends  she 
had  been  used  to  hearing. 

What  enchantment  had  transported  her  thither?  Oh, 
yes — she  had  been  brought  to  Cousin  Leverett's,  she 
remembered  now;  and,  oh,  how  sleepy  she  had  been  last 
night  as  she  sat  by  the  warm,  crackling  fire! 

"Well,  little  Doris!"  exclaimed  a  fresh,  wholesome 
voice,  with  a  laughing  sound  back  of  it. 

"  Oh,  you  are  Betty!  It  is  like  a  dream.  I  could  not 
think  where  I  was  at  first.  And  this  bed  is  so  high.  It's 
like  Miss  Arabella's  with  the  curtains  around  it.  And 
at  home  I  had  a  little  pallet — just  a  low,  straight  bed  al 
most  like  a  bench,  with  no  curtains.  You  slept  here  with 
me?" 

"  Yes.  It  is  my  bed  and  my  room.  And  it  was  de 
lightful  to  have  you  last  night.  I  think  you  never 
stirred.  My  niece  Elizabeth  was  here  in  the  summer 
from  Salem,  and  after  two  nights  I  turned  her  out — she 
kicked  unmercifully,  and  I  couldn't  endure  it.  Now,  do 
you  want  to  get  up?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     Must  I  jump  out  or  just  slip." 

"  Here  is  a  stool." 

But  Doris  had  slipped  and  come  down  on  a  rug  of 


16          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

woven  rags  almost  as  soft  as  Persian  pile.  Her  night 
dress  fell  about  her  in  a  train;  it  was  Betty's,  and  she 
looked  like  a  slim  white  wraith. 

"  Now  I  will  help  you  dress.  Here  is  a  gown  of  mine 
that  I  outgrew  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  it  was  so  nice 
mother  said  it  should  be  saved  for  Elizabeth.  We  call 
her  that  because  my  other  sister  Electa  has  a  daughter 
she  calls  Bessy.  They  are  both  named  after  mother. 
And  so  am  I,  but  I  have  always  been  called  Betty.  So 
many  of  one  name  are  confusing.  But  yours  is  so  pretty 
and  odd.  I  never  knew  a  girl  called  Doris." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Doris  simply.  "  It  was 
papa's  choice.  My  mother's  name  was  Jacqueline." 

"  That  is  very  French." 

"  And  that  is  my  name,  too.  But  Doris  is  easier  to 
say." 

Betty  had  been  helping  her  dress.  The  blue  woolen 
gown  was  not  any  too  long,  but,  oh,  it  was  worlds  too 
wide!  They  both  laughed. 

"  I  wasn't  such  a  slim  little  thing.  See  here,  I  will 
pin  a  plait  over  in  front,  and  that  will  help  it.  Now  that 
does  nicely.  And  you  must  be  choice  of  that  beautiful 
brocade.  What  a  pity  that  you  will  outgrow  it!  It 
would  make  such  a  splendid  gown  when  you  go 
to  parties.  I've  never  had  a  silk  gown,"  and  Betty 
sighed. 

They  went  downstairs.  It  would  seem  queer  enough 
now  to  attend  to  one's  toilet  in  the  corner  of  the 
kitchen,  but  it  was  quite  customary  then.  In  Mrs.  Lev- 
erett's  room  there  were  a  washing  stand  with  a  white 
cloth,  and  a  china  bowl  and  ewer  in  dark  blue  flowers  on  a 
white  ground,  picked  out  with  gilt  edges.  The  bowl  had 
scallops  around  the  edge,  and  the  ewer  was  tall  and  slim. 
There  were  a  soap  dish  and  a  small  pitcher,  and  they 
looked  beautiful  on  the  thick  white  cloth,  that  was  fringed 


IN   A   NEW   HOME.  17 

all  around.  It  had  been  brought  over  from  England  by 
Mrs.  Leverett's  grandmother,  and  was  esteemed  very 
highly,  and  had  been  promised  to  Betty  for  her  name. 
But  Mrs.  Leverett  would  have  considered  it  sacrilege  to 
use  it. 

It  is  true,  many  houses  now  began  to  have  wash 
rooms,  which  were  very  nice  in  summer,  but  of  small  ac 
count  in  winter,  when  the  water  froze  so  easily,  unless 
you  could  have  a  fire. 

When  people  sigh  for  the  good  old  times  they  forget 
the  hardships  and  the  inconveniences. 

Doris  brushed  out  her  hair  and  curled  it  in  a  twin 
kling;  then  she  had  some  breakfast.  Mrs.  Leverett  was 
baking  bread  and  making  pies  and  a  large  cake  full  of 
raisins  that  Betty  had  seeded,  which  went  by  the  name  of 
election  cake. 

The  kitchen  was  a  great  cheery  place  with  some  sunny 
windows  and  a  big  oven  built  at  one  side,  a  capacious 
working  table,  a  dresser,  some  wooden  chairs,  and  a  yel 
low-painted  floor.  The  kitchen  opened  into  mother's 
room  as  well  as  the  hall. 

Doris  sat  and  watched  both  busy  women.  At  Miss 
Arabella's  they  had  an  old  serving  maid  and  the  kitchen 
was  not  a  place  of  tidiness  and  beauty.  It  had  a  hard 
dirt  floor,  and  Barby  sat  out  of  doors  in  the  sunshine  to 
do  whatever  work  she  could  take  out  there,  and  often 
washed  and  dried  her  dishes  when  the  weather  was 
pleasant. 

But  here  the  houses  were  close  enough  to  smile  at  each 
other.  After  the  great  spaces  these  yards  seemed  small, 
but  there  were  trees  and  vines,  and  Mrs.  Leverett  had 
quite  a  garden  spot,  where  she  raised  all  manner  of  sweet 
herbs  and  some  vegetables.  Mr.  Leverett  had  a  shop 
over  on  Ann  Street,  and  attended  steadily  to  his  business, 
early  and  late,  as  men  did  at  that  time. 


i8          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

The  dining  table  was  set  out  at  noon,  and  soon  after 
twelve  o'clock  the  two  men  made  their  appearance. 

"  Let  me  look  at  you,"  said  Mr.  Leverett,  taking  both 
of  Doris'  small  hands.  "  I  hardly  saw  you  yesterday. 
You  were  buried  in  that  big  hat,  and  it  was  getting  so 
dark.  You  have  not  much  Adams  about  you,  neither  do 
you  look  French." 

"  Miss  Arabella  always  said  I  looked  like  papa.  There 
is  a  picture  of  him  in  my  box.  He  had  dark-blue  eyes." 

"  Well,  yours  would  pass  for  black.  Do  they  snap 
when  you  get  out  of  temper?  " 

Doris  colored  and  cast  them  down. 

"  Don't  tease  her,"  interposed  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  She 
is  not  going  to  get  angry.  It  is  a  bad  thing  for  little 
girls." 

"  I  don't  remember  much  of  anything  about  your 
father.  Both  of  your  aunts  are  dead.  You  have  one 
cousin  somewhere — Margaret's  husband  married  and 
went  South — to  Virginia,  didn't  he?  Well,  there  is  no 
end  of  Adams  connection  even  if  some  of  them  have 
different  names.  Captain  Grier  dropped  into  the  ware 
house  with  a  tin  box  of  papers,  and  your  things  are  to  be 
sent  this  afternoon.  He  is  coming  up  this  evening,  and 
I've  sent  for  Uncle  Win  to  come  over  to  supper.  Then 
I  suppose  the  child's  fate  will  be  settled,  and  she'll  be  a 
regular  Boston  girl." 

"  I  do  wonder  if  Uncle  Win  will  let  her  stay  here? 
Mother  and  I  have  decided  that  it  is  the  best  place." 

"  Do  you  think  it  a  good  place?  " 

He  turned  so  suddenly  to  Doris  that  her  face  was  scar 
let  with  embarrassment. 

"  It's  splendid,"  she  said  when  she  caught  her  breath. 
"  I  should  like  to  stay.  And  Aunt  Elizabeth  will  teach 
me  to  make  pies." 

"Well,  pies  are  pretty  good  things,  according  to  my 


IN   A   NEW   HOME.  19 

way  of  thinking.  There's  lots  for  little  girls  to  learn, 
though  I  dare  say  Uncle  Win  will  think  it  can  all  come 
out  of  a  book." 

"  Some  of  it  might  come  out  of  a  cookbook,"  said 
Betty  demurely. 

"  Your  mother's  the  best  cookbook  I  know  about — 
good  enough  for  anyone." 

"  But  we  can't  send  mother  all  round  the  world." 

"  We  just  don't  want  to,"  said  Warren. 

Mrs.  Leverett  smiled.  She  was  proud  of  her  ability  in 
the  culinary  line. 

Mr.  Leverett  looked  at  Doris  presently.  "  Come, 
come,"  he  began  good-naturedly,  "  this  will  never  do ! 
You  are  not  eating  enough  to  keep  a  bird  alive.  No 
wonder  you  are  so  thin !  " 

"  But  I  ate  a  great  deal  of  breakfast,"  explained  Doris 
with  naive  honesty. 

"  And  you  are  not  homesick?  " 

Doris  thought  a  moment.  "  I  don't  want  to  go  away, 
if  that  is  what  you  mean." 

"  Yes,  that's  about  it,"  nodding  humorously. 

Warren  thought  her  the  quaintest,  prettiest  child  he 
had  ever  seen,  but  he  hardly  knew  what  to  say  to  her. 

When  the  men  had  eaten  and  gone  the  dishes  were 
soon  washed  up,  and  then  mother  and  daughter  brought 
their  sewing.  Mrs.  Leverett  was  mending  Warren's 
coat.  Betty  darned  a  small  pile  of  stockings,  and  then 
she  took  out  some  needlework.  She  had  begun  her 
next  summer's  white  gown,  and  she  meant  to  do  it  by 
odd  spells,  especially  when  Aunt  Priscilla,  who  would 
lecture  her  on  so  much  vanity,  was  not  around. 

Mrs.  Leverett  gently  questioned  Doris — she  was  not 
an  aggressive  woman,  nor  unduly  curious.  No,  Doris 
had  not  sewed  much.  Barby  always  darned  the  stock 
ings,  and  Miss  Easter  had  come  to  make  whatever 


20          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

clothes  she  needed.  She  used  to  go  to  Father  Lang- 
horne  and  recite,  and  Mrs.  Leverett  wondered  whether 
she  and  the  father  both  were  Roman  Catholics.  What 
did  she  study?  Oh,  French  and  a  little  Latin,  and  she 
was  reading  history  and  "  Paradise  Lost,"  but  she  didn't 
like  sums,  and  she  could  make  pillow  lace.  Miss  Ara 
bella  made  beautiful  pillow  lace,  and  sometimes  the 
grand  ladies  came  in  carriages  and  paid  her  ever  so  much 
money  for  it. 

And  presently  dusk  began  to  mingle  with  the  golden 
touches  of  sunset,  and  Mrs.  Leverett  went  to  make  bis 
cuit  and  fry  some  chicken,  and  Uncle  Winthrop  came  at 
the  same  moment  that  a  man  on  a  dray  brought  an  old- 
fashioned  chest  and  carried  it  upstairs  to  Betty's  room. 
But  Betty  had  already  attired  Doris  in  her  silk  gown. 

Doris  liked  Uncle  Winthrop  at  once,  although  he  was 
so  different  from  Uncle  Leverett,  who  wore  all  around 
his  face  a  brownish-red  beard  that  seemed  to  grow  out  of 
his  neck,  and  had  tumbled  hair  and  a  somewhat  weather- 
beaten  face.  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  was  two  good  inches 
taller  and  stood  up  very  straight  in  spite  of  his  being  a 
bookworm.  His  complexion  was  fair  and  rather  pale, 
his  features  were  of  the  long,  slender  type,  which  his 
beard,  worn  in  the  Vandyke  style,  intensified.  His  hair 
was  light  and  his  eyes  were  a  grayish  blue,  and  he  had  a 
refined  and  gentle  expression. 

"  So  this  is  our  little  traveler,"  he  said.  "  Your  father 
was  somewhat  older,  perhaps,  when  we  bade  him  good- 
by,  but  I  have  often  thought  of  him.  We  corresponded 
a  little  off  and  on.  And  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  do  all 
that  I  can  for  his  child." 

Doris  glanced  up,  feeling  rather  shy,  and  wondering 
what  she  ought  to  say,  but  in  the  next  breath  Betty  had 
said  it  all,  even  to  declaring  laughingly  that  as  Doris  had 
come  to  them  they  meant  to  keep  her. 


IN   A    NEW    HOME.  *i 

"  Doris,"  he  said  softly.  "  Doris.  You  have  a  poet 
ical  name.  And  you  are  poetical-looking." 

She  wondered  what  the  comparison  meant.  "  Para 
dise  Lost "  was  so  grand  it  tired  her.  Oh,  there  was 
the  old  volume  of  Percy's  "  Reliques."  Did  he  mean 
like  some  of  the  sweet  little  things  in  that?  Miss 
Arabella  had  said  it  wasn't  quite  the  thing  for  a  child  to 
read,  and  had  taken  it  away  until  she  grew  older. 

Uncle  Winthrop  took  her  hand  again — a  small,  slim 
hand;  and  his  was  slender  as  well.  No  real  physical 
work  had  hardened  it.  He  dropped  into  the  high- 
backed  chair  beside  the  fireplace,  and,  putting  his  arm 
about  her,  drew  her  near  to  his  side.  Uncle  Leverett 
would  have  taken  her  on  his  knee  if  he  had  been 
moved  by  an  impulse  like  that,  but  he  was  used  to 
children  and  grandchildren,  and  the  bookish  man 
was  not. 

"  It  is  a  great  change  to  you,"  he  said  in  his  low  tone, 
which  had  a  fascination  for  her.  "  Was  Miss  Arabella — 
were  there  any  young  people  in  the  old  Lincolnshire 
house?" 

"  Oh,  no.  Miss  Henrietta  was  very,  very  old,  but  then 
she  had  lost  her  mind  and  forgotten  everybody.  And 
Miss  Arabella  had  snowy  white  hair  and  a  sweet 
wrinkled  face." 

"  Did  you  go  to  school  ?  " 

"  There  wasn't  any  school  except  a  dame's  school  for 
very  little  children.  I  used  to  go  twice  a  week  to  Father 
Langhorne  and  read  and  write  and  do  sums." 

"  Then  we  will  have  to  educate  you.  Do  you  think 
you  would  like  to  go  to  school?  " 

"  I  don't  know."  She  hung  her  head  a  little,  and  it 
gave  her  a  still  more  winsome  expression.  There  was 
an  indescribable  charm  about  her. 

"  What  did  you  read  with  this  father?  " 


22          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  We  read  '  Paradise  Lost '  and  some  French.  And  I 
had  begun  Latin." 

Winthrop  Adams  gave  a  soft,  surprised  whistle.  By 
the  firelight  he  looked  her  over  critically.  Prodigies 
were  not  to  his  taste,  and  a  girl  prodigy  would  be  an  ab 
horrence.  But  her  face  had  a  sweet  unconcern  that  re 
assured  him. 

"  And  did  you  like  it — '  Paradise  Lost '?  " 
"  I  think  I  did — not,"  returned  Doris  with  hesitating 
frankness.     "  I  liked  the  verses  in  Percy's  '  Reliques ' 
better.     I  like  verses  that  rhyme,  that  you   can  sing 
to  yourself." 

"Ah!    And  how  about  the  sums?" 

"  I  didn't  like  them  at  all.     But  Miss  Arabella  said  the 

right  things  were  often  hard,  and  the  easy  things " 

"  Well,  what  is  the  fault  of  the  easy  things  that  we  all 
like,  and  ought  not  to  like?  " 

"  They  were  not  so  good  for  anyone — though  I  don't 
see  why.  They  are  often  very  pleasant." 

He  laughed  then,  but  some  intuition  told  her  he  liked 
pleasant  things  as  well. 

"  What  do  you  do  in  such  a  case?  " 
"  I  did  the  sums.     It  was  the  right  thing  to  do.     And 
I  studied  Latin,  though  Miss  Arabella  said  it  was  of  no 
use  to  a  girl." 

"  And  the  French?  " 

"  Oh,  I  learned  French  when  I  was  very  little  and  had 
mamma,  and  when  I  was  in  the  convent,  too.  But  papa 
talked  English,  so  I  had  them  both.  Isn't  it  strange  that 
afterward  you  have  to  learn  so  much  about  them,  and 
how  to  make  right  sentences,  and  why  they  are  right. 
It  seems  as  if  there  were  a  great  many  things  in  the 
world  to  learn.  Betty  doesn't  know  half  of  them,  and 

she's  as  sweet  as Oh,  I  think  the  wisest  person  in 

the  world  couldn't  be  any  sweeter." 


IN   A   NEW   HOME.  23 

Winthrop  Adams  smiled  at  the  eager  reasoning. 
Betty  was  a  bright,  gay  girl.  What  occult  quality  was 
sweetness?  And  Doris  had  been  in  a  convent.  That 
startled  him  the  first  moment.  The  old  strict  bitterness 
and  narrowness  of  Puritanism  had  been  softened  and  re 
fined  away.  The  people  who  had  banished  Quakers  had 
for  a  long  while  tolerated  Roman  Catholics.  He  had 
known  Father  Matignon,  and  enjoyed  the  scholarly  and 
well-trained  John  Cheverus,  who  had  lately  been  con 
secrated  bishop.  The  Protestants  had  even  been  gener 
ous  to  their  brethren  of  another  faith  when  they  were 
building  their  church.  As  for  himself  he  was  a  rather 
stiff  Church  of  England  man,  if  he  could  be  called  stiff 
about  anything. 

"  And — did  you  like  the  convent?  "  he  asked,  after  a 
pause,  in  which  he  generously  made  up  his  mind  he 
would  not  interfere  with  her  religious  belief. 

"  It's  so  long  ago  " — with  a  half-sigh.  "  I  was  very  sad 
at  first,  and  missed  mamma.  Papa  had  to  go  away 
somewhere  and  couldn't  take  me.  Yes,  I  liked  sister 
Therese  very  much.  Mamma  was  a  Huguenot,  you 
know." 

"  You  see,  I  really  do  not  know  anything  about  her, 
and  have  known  very  little  about  your  father  since  he 
was  a  small  boy." 

"  A  small  boy!  How  queer  that  seems,"  and  she  gave 
a  tender,  rippling  laugh.  "  Then  you  can  tell  me  about 
him.  He  used  to  come  to  the  convent  once  in  a  while, 
and  when  he  was  ready  to  go  to  England  he  took  me. 
Yes,  I  was  sorry  to  leave  Sister  Therese  and  Sister  Clare. 
There  were  some  little  girls,  too.  And  then  we  went  to 
Lincolnshire.  Miss  Arabella  was  very  nice,  and  Barby 
was  so  queer  and  funny — at  first  I  could  hardly  under 
stand  her.  And  then  we  went  to  a  pretty  little  church 
where  they  didn't  count  beads  nor  pray  to  the  Virgin 


24          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

nor  Saints.  But  it  was  a  good  deal  like.  It  was  the 
Church  of  England.  I  suppose  it  had  to  be  different 
from  the  Church  of  France." 

"  Yes."  He  drew  her  a  little  closer.  That  was  a 
bond  of  sympathy  between  them.  And  just  then  Uncle 
Leverett  and  Warren  came  in,  and  there  was  a  shaking 
of  hands,  and  Uncle  Leverett  said: 

"  Well,  I  declare !  The  sight  of  you,  Win,  is  good  for 
sore  eyes — well  ones,  too." 

"  I  am  rather  remiss  in  a  social  way,  I  must  confess. 
I'll  try  to  do  better.  The  years  fly  around  so,  I  have 
always  felt  sorry  that  I  saw  so  little  of  Cousin  Charles 
until  that  last  sad  year." 

"  It  takes  womenkind  to  keep  up  sociability.  Charles 
and  you  might  as  well  have  been  a  couple  of  old 
bachelors." 

Uncle  Win  gave  his  soft  half-smile,  which  was  really 
more  of  an  indication  than  a  smile. 

"  Come  to  supper  now,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett. 

Doris  kept  hold  of  Uncle  Win's  hand  until  she 
reached  her  place.  He  went  around  to  the  other  side  of 
the  table.  She  decided  she  liked  him  very  much.  She 
liked  almost  everybody:  the  captain  had  been  so  friendly, 
and  Mrs.  Jewett  and  some  of  the  ladies  on  board  the 
vessel  so  kind.  But  Betty  and  Uncle  Win  went  to  the 
very  first  place  with  her. 

The  elders  had  all  the  conversation,  and  it  seemed 
about  some  coming  trouble  to  the  country  that  she  did 
not  understand.  She  knew  there  had  been  war  in  France 
and  various  other  European  countries.  Little  girls  were 
not  very  well  up  in  geography  in  those  days,  but  they  did 
learn  a  good  deal  listening  to  their  elders. 

They  were  hardly  through  supper  when  Captain  Grier 
came  with  the  very  japanned  box  papa  had  brought  over 
from  France  and  placed  in  Miss  Arabella's  care.  His 


IN    A    NEW   HOME.  25 

name  was  on  it — "  Charles  Winthrop  Adams."  Oh, 
and  that  was  Uncle  Win's  name,  too!  Surely, 
they  were  relations!  Doris  experienced  a  sense  of 
gladness. 

Betty  brought  out  a  table  standing  against  the  wain 
scot.  You  touched  a  spring  underneath,  and  the  cir 
cular  side  came  up  and  made  a  flat  top.  The  captain 
took  a  small  key  out  of  a  curious  long  leathern  purse, 
and  Uncle  Win  unlocked  the  box  and  spread  out  the 
papers.  There  was  the  marriage  certificate  of  Jacqueline 
Marie  de  la  Maur  and  Charles  Winthrop  Adams,  and  the 
birth  and  baptismal  record  of  Doris  Jacqueline  de  la 
Maur  Adams,  and  ever  so  many  other  records  and 
letters. 

Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  gave  the  captain  a  receipt  for 
them,  and  thanked  him  cordially  for  all  his  care  and  at 
tention  to  his  little  niece. 

"  She  was  a  pretty  fair  sailor  after  the  first  week,"  said 
the  captain  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  He  was  very  much 
wrinkled  and  weather-beaten,  but  jolly  and  good- 
humored.  "  And  now,  sissy,  I'm  glad  you're  safe  with 
your  folks,  and  I  hope  you'll  grow  up  into  a  nice  clever 
woman.  'Taint  no  use  wishin'  you  good  looks,  for 
you're  purty  as  a  pink  now — one  of  them  rather  palish 
kind.  But  you'll  soon  have  red  cheeks." 

Doris  had  very  red  cheeks  for  a  moment.  Betty 
leaned  over  to  her  brother,  and  whispered: 

"  What  a  splendid  opportunity  lost!  Aunt  Priscilla 
ought  to  be  here  to  say,  '  Handsome  is  as  handsome 
does.'  " 

Then  Captain  Grier  shook  hands  all  round  and  took 
his  departure. 

Afterward  the  two  men  discussed  business  about  the 
little  girl.  There  must  be  another  trustee,  and  papers 
must  be  taken  out  for  guardianship.  They  would  go  to 


26          A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

the  court-house,  say  at  eleven  to-morrow,  and  put  every 
thing  in  train. 

Betty  took  out  some  knitting.  It  was  a  stocking  of 
fine  linen  thread,  and  along  the  instep  it  had  a  pretty 
openwork  pattern  that  was  like  lace  work. 

"  That  is  to  wear  with  slippers,"  she  explained  to 
Doris.  "  But  it's  a  sight  of  work.  'Lecty  had  six  pairs 
when  she  was  married.  That's  my  second  sister,  Mrs. 
King.  She  lives  in  Hartford.  I  want  to  go  and  make 
her  a  visit  this  winter." 

Mrs.  Leverett's  stocking  was  of  the  more  useful  kind, 
blue-gray  yarn,  thick  and  warm,  for  her  husband's  win 
ter  wear.  She  did  not  have  to  count  stitches  and  make 
throws,  and  take  up  two  here  and  three  there. 

"  Warren,"  said  his  mother,  when  he  had  poked  the 
fire  until  she  was  on  '  pins  and  needles,' — they  didn't  call 
it  nervous  then, — "  Warren,  I  am  'most  out  of  corn.  I 
wish  you'd  go  shell  some." 

"  The  hens  do  eat  an  awful  lot,  seems  to  me.  Why,  I 
shelled  only  a  few  nights  ago." 

"  I  touched  bottom  when  I  gave  them  the  last  feed  this 
afternoon.  By  spring  we  won't  have  so  many,"  nodding 
in  a  half-humorous  fashion. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  come  out  and  see  me?  You  don't 
have  any  Indian  corn  growing  in  England,  I've  heard." 

"  Did  it  belong  to  the  Indians?  "  asked  Doris. 

"  I  rather  guess  it  did,  in  the  first  instance.  But  now 
we  plant  it  for  ourselves.  We  don't,  because  father  sold 
the  two-acre  lot,  and  they're  bringing  a  street  through. 
So  now  we  have  only  the  meadow." 

Doris  looked  at  the  uncles,  but  she  couldn't  under 
stand  a  word  they  were  saying. 

"  Come!  "     Warren  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Put  the  big  kitchen  apron  round  her,  Warren,"  said 
Betty,  thinking  of  her  silk  gown. 


IN   A   NEW   HOME.  27 

He  tied  the  apron  round  her  neck  and  brought  back 
the  strings  round  her  waist,  so  she  was  all  covered. 
Then  he  found  her  a  low  chair,  and  poked  the  kitchen 
fire,  putting  on  a  pine  log  to  make  a  nice  blaze.  He 
brought  out  from  the  shed  a  tub  and  a  basket  of  ears  of 
corn.  Across  the  tub  he  laid  the  blade  of  an  old  saw  and 
then  sat  on  the  end  to  keep  it  firm. 

"  Now  you'll  see  business.  Maybe  you've  never  seen 
any  corn  before?" 

She  looked  over  in  the  basket,  and  then  took  up  an 
ear  with  a  mysterious  expression. 

"  It  won't  bite  you,"  he  said  laughingly. 

"  But  how  queer  and  hard,  with  all  these  little  points," 
pinching  them  with  her  dainty  fingers. 

"  Grains,"  he  explained.  "  And  a  husk  grows  on  the 
outside  to  keep  it  warm.  When  the  winter  is  going  to 
be  very  cold  the  husk  is  very  thick." 

"Will  this  winter  be  cold?" 

"  Land  alive !  yes.     Winters  always  are  cold." 

Warren  settled  himself  and  drew  the  ear  across  the 
blade.  A  shower  of  corn  rattled  down  on  the  bottom  of 
the  tub. 

"  Oh!  is  that  the  way  you  peel  it  off?  " 

He  threw  his  head  back  and  laughed. 

"  Oh,  you  Englisher!     We  shell  it  off." 

"  Well,  it  peels  too.  You  peel  a  potato  and  an 
apple  with  a  knife  blade.  Oh,  what  a  pretty  white 
core!" 

"  Cob.  We  Americans  are  adding  new  words  to  the 
language.  A  core  has  seeds  in  it.  There,  see  how  soft 
it  is." 

Doris  took  it  in  her  hand  and  then  laid  her  cheek 
against  it.  "  Oh,  how  soft  and  fuzzy  it  is!"  she  cried. 
"And  what  do  you  do  with  it?" 

"  We  don't  plant  that  part  of  it.     That  core  has  no 


a8          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

seeds.  You  have  to  plant  a  grain  like  this.  The  little 
clear  point  we  call  a  heart,  and  that  sprouts  and  grows. 
This  is  a  good  use  for  the  cob." 

He  had  finished  another,  which  he  tossed  into  the  fire. 
A  bright  blaze  seemed  to  run  over  it  all  at  once  and  die 
down.  Then  the  small  end  flamed  out  and  the  fire  crept 
along  in  a  doubtful  manner  until  it  was  all  covered  again. 

"  They're  splendid  to  kindle  the  fire  with.  And  pine 
cones.  America  has  lots  of  useful  things." 

"  But  they  burn  cones  in  France.  I  like  the  spicy 
smell.  It's  queer  though,"  wrinkling  her  forehead. 
"  Did  the  Indians  know  about  corn  the  first?  " 

"  That  is  the  general  impression  unless  America  was 
settled  before  the  Indians.  Uncle  Win  has  his  head  full 
of  these  things  and  is  writing  a  book.  And  there  is 
tobacco  that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  carried  home  from 
Virginia." 

"  Oh,  I  know  about  Sir  Walter  and  Queen  Elizabeth." 

"  He  was  a  splendid  hero.  I  think  people  are  grow 
ing  tame  now;  there  are  no  wars  except  Indian  skir 
mishes." 

"  Why,  Napoleon  is  fighting  all  the  time." 

"  Oh,  that  doesn't  count,"  declared  the  young  man 
with  a  lofty  air.  "  We  had  some  magnificent  heroes  in 
the  Revolution.  There  are  lots  of  places  for  you  to  see. 
Bunker  Hill  and  Lexington  and  Concord  and  the  head 
quarters  of  Washington  and  Lafayette.  The  French 
were  real  good  to  us,  though  we  have  had  some  scrim 
mages  with  them.  And  now  that  you  are  to  be  a  Bos 
ton  girl " 

"  But  I  was  in  Old  Boston  before,"  and  she  laughed. 
"  Very  old  Boston,  that  is  so  far  back  no  one  can  remem 
ber,  and  it  was  called  Ikanhoe,  which  means  Boston. 
There  is  the  old  church  and  the  abbey  that  St.  Botolph 
founded.  They  came  over  somewhere  in  six  hundred, 


AUNT    PRISCILLA.  29 

and  were  missionaries  from  France — St.  Botolph  and  his 
brother." 

"Whew!"  ejaculated  Warren  with  a  long  whistle, 
looking  up  at  the  little  girl  as  if  she  were  hundreds  of 
years  old. 

Betty  opened  the  door.  "  Uncle  Win  is  going,"  she 
announced.  "  Come  and  say  good-by  to  him." 

He  was  standing  up  with  the  box  of  papers  in  his  hand, 
and  saying: 

"  I  must  have  you  all  over  to  tea  some  night,  and 
Doris  must  come  and  see  my  old  house.  And  I  have  a 
big  boy  like  Warren.  Yes,  we  must  be  a  little  more 
friendly,  for  life  is  short  at  the  best.  And  you  are  to  stay 
here  a  while  with  good  Cousin  Elizabeth,  and  I  hope  you 
will  be  content  and  happy." 

She  pressed  the  hand  Uncle  Win  held  out  in  both  of 
hers.  In  all  the  changes  she  had  learned  to  be  content, 
and  she  had  a  certain  adaptiveness  that  kept  her  from 
being  unhappy.  She  was  very  glad  she  was  going  to 
stay  with  Betty,  and  glanced  up  with  a  bright  smile. 

They  all  said  good-night  to  Cousin  Adams.  Mr. 
Leverett  turned  the  great  key  in  the  hall  door,  and  it 
gave  a  shriek. 

"  I  must  oil  that  lock  to-morrow.  It  groans  enough 
to  raise  the  dead,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett. 


CHAPTER   III. 

AUNT    PRISCILLA. 

HP  HERE  was  quite  a  discussion  about  a  school. 
Uncle  Win  had  an  idea  Doris  ought  to  begin  high 
up  in  the  scale.  For  really  she  was  very  well  born  on 
both  sides.  Her  father  had  left  considerable  money, 
and  in  a  few  years  second-cousin  Charles'  bequest  might 


3o          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

be  quite  valuable,  if  Aunt  Priscilla  did  sniff  over  it 
There  was  Mrs.  Rawson's. 

"  But  that  is  mostly  for  young  ladies,  a  kind  of  finish 
ing  school.  And  in  some  things  Doris  is  quite  behind, 
while  in  others  far  advanced.  There  will  be  time  enough 
for  accomplishments.  And  Mrs.  Webb's  is  near  by, 
which  will  be  an  object  this  cold  winter." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  her  to  forget  her  French.  And 
perhaps  it  would  be  as  well  to  go  on  with  Latin,"  Cousin 
Adams  said. 

Mrs.  Leverett  was  a  very  sensible  woman,  but  she 
really  did  not  see  the  need  of  Latin  for  a  girl.  There 
was  a  kind  of  sentiment  about  French;  it  had  been  her 
mother's  native  tongue,  and  one  did  now  and  then  go  to 
France. 

There  had  been  a  good  deal  of  objection  to  even  the 
medium  education  of  women  among  certain  classes. 
The  three  "  R's  "  had  been  considered  all  that  was  neces 
sary.  And  when  the  system  of  public  education  had 
been  first  inaugurated  it  was  thought  quite  sufficient  for 
girls  to  go  from  April  to  October.  Good  wives  and 
good  mothers  was  the  ideal  held  up  to  girls.  But  people 
were  beginning  to  understand  that  ignorance  was  not 
always  goodness.  Mrs.  Rawson  had  done  a  great  deal 
toward  the  enlightenment  of  this  subject.  The  pioneer 
days  were  past,  unless  one  was  seized  with  a  mania  for 
the  new  countries. 

Mrs.  Leverett  was  secretly  proud  of  her  two  married 
daughters.  Mrs.  King's  husband  had  gone  to  the  State 
legislature,  and  was  considered  quite  a  rising  politician. 
Mrs.  Manning  was  a  farmer's  wife  and  held  in  high 
esteem  for  the  management  of  her  family.  Betty  was 
being  inducted  now  into  all  household  accomplishments 
with  the  hope  that  she  would  marry  quite  as  well  as  her 
sisters.  She  was  a  good  reader  and  speller;  she  had  a 


AUNT   PRISCILLA.  31 

really  fine  manuscript  arithmetic,  in  which  she  had  writ 
ten  the  rules  and  copied  the  sums  herself.  She  had  a 
book  of  "  elegant  extracts  " ;  she  also  wrote  down  the  text 
of  the  Sunday  morning  sermon  and  what  she  could  re 
member  of  it.  She  knew  the  difference  between  the 
Puritans  and  the  Pilgrims;  she  also  knew  how  the  thir 
teen  States  were  settled  and  by  whom;  she  could  answer 
almost  any  question  about  the  French,  the  Indian,  and 
the  Revolutionary  wars.  She  could  do  fine  needlework 
and  the  fancy  stitches  of  the  day.  She  was  extremely 
"  handy  "  with  her  needle.  Mrs.  Leverett  called  her  a 
very  well-educated  girl,  and  the  Leveretts  considered 
themselves  some  of  the  best  old  stock  in  Boston,  if  they 
were  not  much  given  to  show. 

It  might  be  different  with  Doris.  But  a  good  husband 
was  the  best  thing  a  girl  could  have,  in  Mrs.  Leverett's 
estimation,  and  knowing  how  to  make  a  good  home  her 
greatest  accomplishment. 

They  looked  over  Doris'  chest  and  found  some  simple 
gowns,  mostly  summer  ones,  pairs  of  fine  stockings  that 
had  been  cut  down  and  made  over  by  Miss  Arabella's 
dainty  fingers,  and  underclothes  of  a  delicate  quality. 
There  were  the  miniatures  of  her  parents — that  of  her 
mother  very  girlish  indeed — and  a  few  trinkets  and 
books. 

"  She  must  have  two  good  woolen  frocks  for  winter, 
and  a  coat,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  Cousin  Winthrop 
said  I  should  buy  whatever  was  suitable." 

"  And  a  little  Puritan  cap  trimmed  about  with  fur.  I 
am  sure  I  can  make  that.  And  a  strip  of  fur  on  her 
coat.  She  would  blow  away  in  that  big  hat  if  a  high 
wind  took  her,"  declared  Betty. 

"  And  all  the  little  girls  wear  them  in  winter.  Still,  I 
suppose  Old  Boston  must  have  been  cold  and  bleak  in 
winter." 


32          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

"  It  was  not  so  nearly  an  island." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  work  to  do  on  Friday,  so 
shopping  was  put  off  to  the  first  of  the  week.  Doris 
proved  eagerly  helpful  and  dusted  very  well.  In  the 
afternoon  Aunt  Priscilla  came  over  for  her  cup  of  tea. 

"  Dear  me,"  she  began  with  a  great  sigh,  "  I  wish  I  had 
some  nice  young  girl  that  I  could  train,  and  who  would 
take  an  interest  in  things.  Polly  is  too  old.  And  I 
don't  like  to  send  her  away,  for  she  was  good  enough 
when  she  had  any  sense.  There's  no  place  for  her  but 
the  poorhouse,  and  I  can't  find  it  in  my  conscience  to 
send  her  there.  But  I'm  monstrous  tired  of  her,  and  I 
do  think  I'd  feel  better  with  a  cheerful  young  person 
around.  You're  just  fortunate,  'Lizabeth,  that  you  and 
Betty  can  do  for  yourselves." 

"  It  answers,  now  that  the  family  is  small.  But  last 
year  I  found  it  quite  trying.  And  Betty  must  have  her 
two  or  three  years'  training  at  housekeeping." 

"  Oh,  of  course.  I'm  glad  you're  so  sensible,  'Liza 
beth.  Girls  are  very  flighty,  nowadays,  and  are  in  the 
street  half  the  time,  and  dancing  and  frolicking  round  at 
night.  I  really  don't  know  what  the  young  generation 
will  be  good  for!  " 

Mrs.  Leverett  smiled.  She  remembered  she  had  heard 
some  such  comments  when  she  was  young,  though  the 
lines  were  more  strictly  drawn  then." 

"  Has  Winthrop  been  over  to  see  his  charge?  How 
does  he  feel  about  it?  Now,  if  she  had  been  a  boy " 

"  He  was  up  to  tea  last  night,  and  he  and  Foster 
have  been  arranging  the  business  this  morning.  Foster 
is  to  be  joint  trustee,  but  Winthrop  will  be  her  guardian." 

"  What  will  he  do  with  a  girl !  Why,  she'll  set  Recom 
pense  crazy." 

"  She  is  not  going  to  live  there.  For  the  present  she 
will  stay  here.  She  will  go  to  Mrs.  Webb's  school  this 


AUNT   PRISCILLA.  33 

winter.  He  has  an  idea  of  sending  her  to  boarding 
school  later  on." 

"  Is  she  that  rich?"  asked  Aunt  Priscilla  with  a  little 
sarcasm. 

"  She  will  have  a  small  income  from  what  her  father 
left.  Then  there  is  the  rent  of  the  house  in  School 
Street,  and  some  stock.  Winthrop  thinks  she  ought  to 
be  well  educated.  And  if  she  should  ever  have  to  depend 
on  herself,  teaching  seems  quite  a  good  thing.  Even 
Mrs.  Webb  makes  a  very  comfortable  living." 

"  But  we're  going  to  educate  the  community  for  noth 
ing,  and  tax  the  people  who  have  no  children  to  pay 
for  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett  with  a  smile,  "  that  evens 
up  matters.  But  the  others,  at  least  property  owners, 
have  to  pay  their  share.  I  tell  Foster  that  we  ought 
not  grudge  our  part,  though  we  have  no  children  to 
send." 

"  How  did  people  get  along  before?  " 

"  I  went  to  school  until  I  was  fifteen." 

"  And  when  I  was  twelve  I  was  doing  my  day's  work 
spinning.  There's  talk  that  we  shall  have  to  come  back 
to  it.  Jonas  Field  is  in  a  terrible  taking.  According  to 
him  war's  bound  to  come.  And  this  embargo  is  just 
ruining  everything.  It  is  to  be  hoped  we  will  have  a 
new  President  before  everything  goes." 

"  Yes,  it  is  making  times  hard.  But  we  are  learning 
to  do  a  great  deal  more  for  ourselves." 

"  It  behooves  us  not  to  waste  our  money.  But  Win 
throp  Adams  hasn't  much  real  calculation.  So  long  as 
he  has  money  to  buy  books,  I  suppose  he  thinks  the 
world  will  go  on  all  right.  It's  to  be  hoped  Foster  will 
look  out  for  the  girl's  interest  a  little.  But  you'll  be 
foolish  to  take  the  brunt  of  the  thing.  Now  it  would  be 
just  like  you,'Lizabeth  Leverett,to  take  care  of  this  child, 


34          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

without  a  penny,  just  as  if  she  was  some  charity  object 
thrown  on  your  hands." 

Mrs.  Leverett  did  give  her  soft  laugh  then. 

"  You  have  just  hit  it,  Aunt  Priscilla,"  she  said. 
"  Winthrop  wanted  to  pay  her  board,  but  Foster  just 
wouldn't  hear  to  it,  this  year  at  least.  We  have  all  taken 
a  great  liking  to  her,  and  she  is  to  be  our  visitor  from 
now  until  summer,  when  some  other  plans  are  to  be 
made." 

"Well — if  you  have  money  to  throw  away "  gasped 

Aunt  Priscilla. 

"  She  won't  eat  more  than  a  chicken,  and  she'll  sleep  in 
Betty's  bed.  It  will  help  steady  Betty  and  be  an  interest 
to  all  of  us.  I  really  couldn't  think  of  charging.  It's 
like  having  one  of  the  grandchildren  here.  And  she 
needs  a  mother's  care.  Think  of  the  poor  little  girl  with 
not  a  near  relative!  Aunt  Priscilla,  there's  a  good  many 
things  money  can't  buy." 

Aunt  Priscilla  sniffed. 

"  Take  off  your  bonnet  and  have  a  cup  of  tea,"  Mr§. 
Leverett  had  asked  her  when  she  first  came  in.  "  It's 
such  a  long  walk  back  to  King  Street  on  an  empty 
stomach.  The  children  are  making  cookies,  but  Betty 
shall  brew  a  cup  of  tea  at  once,  unless  you'll  wait  till  the 
men  folks  come  in." 

Aunt  Priscilla  sat  severe  and  undecided  for  a  moment. 
The  laughing  voices  in  the  other  room  piqued  and  vexed 
and  interested  her  all  in  a  breath.  She  had  come  over  to 
hear  about  Doris.  There  was  so  little  interest  in  her 
methodical  old  life.  Mrs.  Leverett  sincerely  pitied 
women  who  had  no  children  and  no  grandchildren. 

"  They're  quite  as  queer  as  old  maids  without  the  real 
excuse,"  she  said  to  her  husband.  "  They've  missed  the 
best  things  out  of  their  lives  without  really  knowing 
they  were  the  best." 


AUNT   PRISCILLA.  35 

And  perhaps  at  this  era  more  respect  was  paid  to  age. 
There  were  certain  trials  and  duties  to  life  that  men  and 
women  accepted  and  did  not  try  to  evade.  A  modern 
happy  woman  would  have  been  bored  at  the  call  of  a  dis 
satisfied  old  woman  every  few  days.  But  since  the  death 
of  Mehitable  Doule,  Priscilla's  own  cousin,  who  had  been 
married  from  her  house,  she  had  clung  more  to  the 
Leveretts.  Foster  was  too  easy-going,  otherwise  she 
had  not  much  fault  to  find  with  him.  He  had  prospered 
and  was  forehanded,  and  his  married  son  and  daughters 
had  been  fairly  successful. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,"  said  Aunt  Priscilla,  with 
a  half-reluctance.  "  Though  I  hadn't  decided  to  when  I 
came  away,  and  Polly  '11  make  a  great  hole  in  that  cold 
roast  pork,  for  I  never  said  a  word  as  to  what  she  should 
have  for  supper.  She's  come  to  have  no  more  sense 
than  a  child,  and  some  things  are  bad  to  eat  at  night. 
But  if  she  makes  herself  sick  she'll  have  to  suffer." 

"  I'll  have  some  tea  made " 

"  No,  'Lizabeth,  don't  fuss.  I  shan't  be  in  any  hurry, 
if  I  do  stay,  and  the  men  will  be  in  before  long.  So 
Winthrop  wan't  real  put  out  when  he  saw  the  girl?" 

"  I  think  he  liked  her.  He's  not  much  hand  to  make 
a  fuss,  you  know.  He  feels  she  must  be  well  brought 
up.  Her  mother,  it  seems,  was  quite  quality." 

"  Queer  the  mother's  folks  didn't  look  after  her." 

"  Her  mother  was  an  only  child.  Winthrop  has  the 
records  back  several  generations.  And  when  she  died 
the  father  was  alive,  you  know." 

"  Winthrop  is  a  great  stickler  for  such  things.  It's 
good  to  have  folks  you're  not  ashamed  of,  to  be  sure,  but 
family  isn't  everything.  Behaving  counts." 

Aunt  Priscilla  took  off  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and 
hung  them  in  the  "  best  "  closet,  where  the  Sunday  coats 
and  cloaks  were  kept. 


36          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  You  might  just  hand  me  that  knitting,  'Lizabeth.  I 
guess  I  knit  a  little  tighter'n  you  do,  on  account  of  my 
hand  being  out.  I've  more  than  enough  stockings  to 
last  my  time  out  and  some  coarse  ones  for  Polly.  They 
spin  yarn  so  much  finer  now.  Footing  many  stockings 
this  fall?" 

"  No.  I  knit  Foster  new  ones  late  in  the  spring.  He's 
easy,  too.  Warren's  the  one  to  gnaw  out  heels,  though 
young  people  are  so  much  on  the  go." 

Aunt  Priscilla  took  up  the  stocking  and  pinned  the 
sheath  on  her  side.  How  gay  the  voices  sounded  in  the 
kitchen!  Then  the  door  opened. 

"  Just  look,  Aunt  Elizabeth !  Aren't  they  lovely ! 
Betty  let  me  cut  them  out  and  put  them  in  the  pans. 
Oh " 

Doris  stood  quite  abashed,  with  a  dish  of  tempting 
brown  cookies  in  one  hand.  Her  cheeks  were  like  roses 
now,  and  Betty's  kitchen  apron  made  another  frock  over 
hers  of  gay  chintz,  that  had  been  exhumed  from  the 
chest. 

"  Good-afternoon,"  recovering  herself. 

"  The  cookies  look  delightful.  I  must  taste  one," 
Mrs.  Leverett  said  smilingly. 

She  handed  the  plate  to  Aunt  Priscilla. 

"  It  '11  just  spoil  my  supper  if  I  eat  one.  But  you  may 
do  up  some  in  a  paper,  and  I'll  take  them  home.  I'm 
glad  to  see  you  at  something  useful.  Did  you  help 
about  the  house  over  there  in  England?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     We  had  Barby,"  answered  the  child  simply. 

"  Well,  there's  a  deal  for  you  to  learn.  I  made  bread 
just  after  I  had  turned  ten  years  old.  Girls  in  old  times 
learned  to  work.  It  wasn't  all  cooky-making,  by  a  long 
shot!" 

Doris  made  a  little  courtesy  and  disappeared. 

"  I'd  do  something  to  that  tousled  hair,   'Lizabeth. 


AUNT    PRISCILLA.  37 

Have  her  put  it  up  or  cut  it  off.  It's  good  to  cut  a 
girl's  hair;  makes  it  thick  and  strong.  And  curls  do 
look  so  flighty  and  frivolous." 

"  The  new  fashion  is  a  wig  with  all  the  front  in  little 
curls.  It's  so  much  less  trouble  if  it  is  made  of  natural 
curly  hair." 

"  Are  you  going  to  set  up  for  fashion  in  these  hard 
times?"  asked  the  visitor  disdainfully. 

"  Not  quite.  But  Betty  Pickering  is  to  be  married  in 
great  state  next  month,  and  we  have  been  invited  al 
ready.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  consider  her  in  some  sort 
a  namesake." 

"  I'm  glad  I  haven't  any  fine  relatives  to  be  married," 
and  the  sniff  was  made  to  do  duty. 

Mrs.  Leverett  put  down  her  sewing.  She  had  drawn 
the  threads  and  basted  the  wristbands  and  gussets  for 
Betty  to  stitch,  as  they  had  come  to  shirt-making.  The 
new  ones  of  thick  cotton  cloth  would  be  good  for  winter 
wear.  One  had  always  to  think  ahead  in  this  world  if 
one  wanted  things  to  come  out  even. 

Then  she  went  out  to  the  kitchen,  and  there  was  a  gay 
chattering,  as  if  a  colony  of  chimney  swallows  had  met 
on  a  May  morning.  Aunt  Priscilla  pushed  up  nearer 
the  window.  She  had  good  eyesight  still,  and  only  wore 
glasses  when  she  read  or  was  doing  some  extra-fine 
work. 

Betty  came  in  and  rolled  out  the  table  as  she  greeted 
her  relative.  Aunt  Priscilla  had  a  curiously  lost  feeling, 
as  if  somehow  she  had  gone  astray.  No  one  ever  would 
know  about  it,  to  be  sure.  There  were  times  when  it 
seemed  as  if  there  must  be  a  third  power,  between  God 
and  the  Evil  One.  There  were  things  neither  good  nor 
bad.  If  they  were  good  the  Lord  brought  them  to  pass, 
— or  ought  to, — and  if  they  were  bad  your  conscience 
was  troubled.  Aunt  Priscilla  had  been  elated  over  her 


38          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

idea  all  day  yesterday.  It  looked  really  generous  to  her. 
Of  course  Cousin  Winthrop  couldn't  be  bothered  with 
this  little  foreign  girl,  and  the  Leveretts  had  a  lot  of 
grandchildren.  She  might  take  this  Dorothy  Adams, 
and  bring  her  up  in  a  virtuous,  useful  fashion.  She 
would  go  to  school,  of  course,  but  there  would  be  nights 
and  mornings  and  Saturdays.  In  two  years,  at  the  latest, 
she  would  be  able  to  take  a  good  deal  of  charge  of  the 
house.  All  this  time  her  own  little  fortune  could  be 
augmenting,  interest  on  interest.  And  if  she  turned  out 
fair,  she  would  do  the  handsome  thing  by  her — leave  her 
at  least  half  of  what  she,  Mrs.  Perkins,  possessed. 

And  yet  it  was  not  achieved  without  a  sort  of  mental 
wrestle.  She  was  not  quite  sure  it  was  spiritual  enough 
to  pray  over;  in  fact,  nothing  just  like  this  had  come  into 
her  life  before.  She  was  not  the  kind  of  stuff  out  of 
which  missionaries  were  made,  and  this  wasn't  just 
charitable  work.  She  would  expect  the  girl  to  do  some 
thing  for  her  board,  but  Polly  would  be  good  for  a  year 
or  two  more.  Time  did  hang  heavy  on  her  hands,  and 
this  would  be  interest  and  employment,  and  a  good  turn. 
When  matters  were  settled  a  little  she  would  broach  the 
subject  to  Elizabeth. 

If  Winthrop  Adams  meant  to  make  a  great  lady  out  of 
her — why,  that  was  all  there  was  to  it!  Times  were  hard 
and  there  might  be  war.  Winthrop  had  a  son  of  his 
own,  and  perhaps  not  so  much  money  as  people  thought. 
And  it  did  seem  folly  to  waste  the  child's  means.  If  she 
had  so  much — enough  to  go  to  boarding  school — she 
oughtn't  be  living  on  the  Leveretts.  Foster  was  hav 
ing  pretty  tight  squeezing  to  get  along. 

They  all  wondered  what  made  Aunt  Priscilla  so  un- 
aggressive  at  supper  time.  She  watched  Doris  furtively. 
All  the  household  had  a  smile  for  her.  Foster  Leverett 
patted  her  soft  hair,  and  Warren  pinched  her  cheek  in 


AUNT    PRISCILLA.  39 

play.  Betty  gave  her  half  a  dozen  hugs  between  times, 
and  Mrs.  Leverett  smiled  when  Doris  glanced  her  way. 

The  quarter-moon  was  coming  up  when  Priscilla  Per 
kins  opened  the  closet  door  for  her  things. 

"  I'll  walk  over  with  Aunt  Priscilla,"  said  Warren. 
"  It's  my  night  for  practice." 

"  Oh,  yes."  His  father  nodded.  Warren  had  lately 
joined  the  band,  but  his  mother  thought  she  couldn't 
stand  the  cornet  round  the  house. 

"  I  aint  a  mite  afraid  in  the  moonlight.  I  come  so 
often  I  ought  not  put  anyone  out." 

"  Now  that  the  evenings  are  cool  it  seems  lonesomer," 
said  Mr.  Leverett,  settling  in  his  armchair  by  the  fire, 
really  glad  his  son  could  be  attentive  without  any  special 
sacrifice. 

Doris  brought  the  queer  little  stool  and  sat  down  be 
side  him.  She  looked  as  if  she  had  always  lived  there. 

"  You'll  all  spoil  that  child,"  Aunt  Priscilla  said  to 
Warren  when  they  had  stepped  off  the  stoop. 

"  I  don't  believe  there's  any  spoil  to  her,"  said  Warren 
heartily.  "  She's  the  sweetest  little  thing  I  ever  saw;  so 
wise  in  some  ways  and  so  honestly  ignorant  in  others. 
I  never  saw  Uncle  Win  so  taken — he  never  seems  to 
quite  know  what  to  do  with  children.  And  he's  asked  us 
all  over  to  tea  some  night  next  week.  I  was  clear 
struck." 

Mrs.  Perkins  made  no  reply.  About  once  a  year  he 
invited  her  over  to  tea  with  some  of  the  old  cousins,  and 
he  called  on  her  New  Year's  Day,  which  was  not  spe 
cially  kept  in  any  fashionable  way. 

Mrs.  Perkins  always  said  King  Street,  though  in  a 
burst  of  patriotism  the  name  had  been  changed  after  the 
Revolution.  It  had  dropped  down  very  much  and  was 
being  given  over  to  business.  There  was  a  narrow  hall 
door  set  in  a  little  distance,  with  a  few  steps,  and  the  shop 


40          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

front  with  the  plain  sign  of  "  Jonas  Field,  Flour,  Grain, 
and  Feed."  The  stairway  led  to  an  upper  hall  and  a 
very  comfortable  suite  of  rooms,  where  Mrs.  Perkins  had 
come  as  a  young  wife,  and  where  she  meant  to  end  her 
days.  It  was  plenty  good  enough  inside,  and  she  "didn't 
live  in  the  street." 

The  best  room  occupied  the  whole  front  and  had  three 
windows.  Priscilla  had  been  barely  nineteen  when  she 
was  married,  and  Hatfield  Perkins  quite  a  bachelor. 
And,  as  no  children  had  come  to  disturb  their  orderly 
habits,  they  had  settled  more  securely  in  them  year  after 
year. 

Next  to  the  parlor  was  the  sleeping  chamber.  Now, 
it  was  the  spare  room,  though  no  one  came  to  stay  all 
night  who  was  fine  enough  to  put  in  it.  The  smaller 
one  adjoining  she  had  used  since  her  husband's  death. 
There  was  a  little  tea  room,  and  a  big  kitchen  at  the 
back.  Downstairs  the  store  part  had  been  built  out,  and 
on  the  roof  of  this  the  clothes  were  dried.  Polly  always 
sat  out  here  in  pleasant  weather,  to  prepare  vegetables 
and  do  various  chores.  The  lot  was  deep,  and  at  the 
back  were  some  fruit  trees,  and  the  patch  of  herbs  every 
woman  thought  she  must  have,  and  a  square  of  grass  for 
bleaching. 

A  lighted  lamp  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs.  Polly 
was  dozing  in  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Perkins  sent  her  to  bed 
in  short  order.  There  were  two  rooms  and  a  storage 
closet  upstairs  in  the  gables.  One  was  Polly's.  The 
other  was  the  guest  chamber  that  was  good  enough 
"  for  the  common  run  of  folks." 

The  moon  was  shining  in  the  back  windows.  Priscilla 
snuffed  out  the  candle;  there  was  no  use  wasting  candle 
light.  She  sat  down  in  a  low  rocker,  the  only  one  she 
owned ;  and  several  list  seats  had  been  worn  out  in  it  be 
sides  the  original  one  of  rushes.  She  had  never  been 


AUNT   PRISCILLA.  41 

really  lonely  in  the  sixty-five  years  of  her  life  for  she  had 
kept  busy,  and  was  replete  with  old-fashioned  methods 
that  made  work.  She  was  very  particular.  Everything 
was  scrubbed  and  scoured  and  swept  and  dusted  and 
aired.  The  dishes  were  polished  until  they  were  lus 
trous.  The  knives  and  forks  and  spoons  were  speckless. 
There  were  napery  and  bedding  that  had  been  laid  by  for 
her  marriage  outfit,  and  not  all  worn  out  yet,  though  in 
the  early  years  she  had  kept  replenishing  for  possible 
children.  There  was  plenty  for  twenty  years  to  come, 
and  though  her  people  had  been  strong  and  healthy, 
they  never  went  much  over  seventy.  She  was  the 
youngest,  and  all  the  rest  were  gone.  Her  few  real 
nieces  and  nephews  were  scattered  about;  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  long  ago  she  shouldn't  ever  have  anyone 
hanging  on  her. 

No  one  wanted  to.  No  one  even  leaned  on  her.  Yet 
somehow  the  life  had  never  seemed  real  solitary  until 
now.  She  had  comforted  her  years  with  the  thought 
that  children  were  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  did  not 
always  turn  out  well.  She  could  see  the  picture  the  little 
foreign  girl  made  as  she  folded  her  arms  on  Foster  Lev- 
erett's  knee.  She  wouldn't  have  that  mop  of  frowzly 
hair  flying  about,  and  she  would  like  to  fat  her  up  a  little 
— she  was  rather  peaked.  She  had  imagined  her  going 
about  in  this  old  place,  sewing,  learning  to  work  prop 
erly,  reading  and  studying,  and  going  to  church  every 
Sabbath.  She  had  really  meant  to  do  something  for  a 
human  being  day  after  day,  not  in  a  spasmodic  fashion. 
And  this  was  the  end  of  it. 

She  sprang  up  suddenly,  lighted  the  candle  again, 
went  out  to  the  kitchen  to  see  that  everything  was  right 
and  there  was  no  danger  of  fire.  She  opened  the  outside 
door  and  glanced  around.  There  was  an  autumnal  chill 
in  the  air,  but  there  were  no  mysterious  shadows  creep- 


42          A    LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD    BOSTON. 

ing  about  in  the  yard  below  that  might  presage  burglars. 
Then  she  bolted  the  door  with  a  snap,  and  stood  a  mo 
ment  in  the  middle  of  the  floor. 

"  You  are  an  old  fool,  Priscilla  Perkins !  The  idea  of 
all  Boston  being  turned  upside  down  for  the  sake  of  one 
little  girl!  People  have  come  over  from  England  be 
fore,  big  and  little,  and  there's  been  a  war  and  there  may 
be  another,  and  no  end  of  things  to  happen.  To  be  sure, 
I'd  done  my  duty  by  her  if  I'd  had  her;  and  if  the  others 
spoil  her — I  aint  to  blame,  the  Lord  knows! " 


CHAPTER   IV. 

OUT     TO     TEA. 

'""THERE!     Does  it  look  like  Old  Boston?" 

They  were  winding  around  Copp's  Hill.  Warren 
had  been  given  part  of  a  day  off,  and  the  use  of  the  chaise 
and  Jack,  to  show  the  little  cousin  something  of  Boston 
before  they  went  to  Uncle  Winthrop's  to  tea. 

Doris  had  her  new  coat,  which  was  a  sort  of  fawn 
color,  and  the  close  Puritan  cap  to  keep  her  neck  and 
ears  warm.  For  earache  was  quite  a  common  com 
plaint  among  children,  and  people  were  careful  through 
the  long  cold  winter.  A  strip  of  beaver  fur  edged  the 
front,  and  went  around  the  little  cape  at  the  back.  Its 
soft  grayish-brown  framed  in  her  fair  face  like  a  picture, 
and  her  eyes  were  almost  the  tint  of  the  deep,  unclouded 
blue  sky. 

They  had  a  fine  view  of  Old  Boston,  but  they  could 
hardly  dream  of  the  Boston  that  was  to  be.  There  were 
still  the  three  elevations  of  Beacon  Hill,  lowered  some 
what,  to  be  sure,  but  not  taken  away  entirely.  And  there 
was  Fort  Hill  in  the  distance. 


OUT   TO   TEA.  43 

"  Why,  it  looks  like  a  chain  of  islands,  and  instead  of 
a  great  sea  the  water  runs  round  and  round.  At  home 
the  Witham  comes  down  to  the  winding  cove  called  The 
Wash.  Boston  is  sort  of  set  between  two  rivers,  but  it 
is  fast  of  the  mainland,  and  doesn't  look  so  much  like 
floating  off.  You  can  go  over  to  the  Norfolk  shore,  and 
you  look  out  on  the  great  North  Sea.  But  it  isn't  as  big 
as  the  Atlantic  Ocean." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not!  "  with  disdain.  "  Why,  you 
can  look  over  to  Holland !  " 

"  You  can't  see  Holland,  but  it's  there,  and  Denmark." 

"  And  we  shall  have  to  be  something  like  the  Dutch, 
if  ever  we  mean  to  have  a  grand  city.  We  shall  have  to 
dike  and  fill  in  and  bridge.  I  have  a  great  regard  for 
those  sturdy  old  Dutchmen  and  the  way  they  fought  the 
Spanish  as  well  as  the  sea." 

Doris  didn't  know  much  about  Holland,  even  if  she 
could  make  pillow  lace  and  read  French  verses  with  a 
charming  accent. 

"  That's  the  Mill  Pond.  And  all  that  is  the  back  part 
of  the  bay.  And  over  there  a  grand  battle  was  fought — 
but  you  were  not  born  before  the  Revolutionary 
War." 

"  I  guess  you  were  not  born  yourself,  Warren  Lev- 
erett,"  said  Betty,  with  unnecessary  vigor. 

"Well,  I  am  rather  glad  I  wasn't;  I  shall  have  the 
longer  to  live.  But  grandfather  and  ever  so  many  rela 
tives  were,  and  father  knows  all  about  it.  I  am  proud, 
too,  of  having  been  named  for  General  Warren." 

"  And  down  there  near  the  bay  is  Fort  Hill.  Boston 
wasn't  built  on  seven  hills  like  Rome,  and  though  there 
are  acres  and  acres  of  low  ground,  we  are  not  likely  to 
be  overflowed,  unless  the  Atlantic  Ocean  should  rise  and 
sweep  us  out  of  existence.  And  there  is  the  old  bury 
ing  ground,  full  of  queer  names  and  curious  epitaphs." 


44          A    LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD    BOSTON. 

The  long  peninsula  stretched  out  in  a  sort  of  irregular 
pear-shape,  and  then  was  connected  to  another  portion 
by  a  narrow  neck.  The  little  villages  about  had  a  rural 
aspect,  and  some  of  them  were  joined  to  the  mainland  by 
bridges.  And  cows  were  still  pastured  on  the  commons 
and  in  several  tracts  of  meadow  land  in  the  city.  Many 
people  had  their  own  milk  and  made  butter.  There  were 
large  gardens  at  the  sides  of  the  houses,  many  of  them 
standing  with  the  gable  end  to  the  street,  and  built  mostly 
of  wood.  But  nearly  all  the  leaves  had  fallen  now,  and 
though  the  sun  shone  with  a  mellow  softness,  it  was 
quite  evident  the  reign  of  summer  was  ended. 

They  drove  slowly  about,  Warren  rehearsing  stories 
of  this  and  that  place,  and  wishing  there  was  more  time 
so  they  might  go  over  to  Charlestown. 

"  But  Doris  is  to  stay,  and  there  will  be  time  enough 
next  summer.  It  is  confusing  to  see  so  many  places  at 
once.  And  mother  said  we  must  be  at  Uncle  Win's 
about  four,"  declared  Betty. 

It  was  rather  confusing  to  Doris,  who  had  heard  so 
little  of  American  history  in  her  quiet  home.  War 
seemed  a  dreadful  thing  to  her,  and  she  could  not  take 
Warren's  pride  in  battle  and  conquest. 

So  they  turned  and  went  down  through  the  winding 
streets. 

"Do  you  know  why  they  are  so  crooked?"  Warren 
asked. 

"  No;  why?"  asked  Doris  innocently. 

"  Well,  William  Blackstone's  cows  made  the  paths. 
He  came  here  first  of  all  and  had  an  allotment.  Then 
when  people  began  to  come  over  from  Charlestown  he 
sold  out  for  thirty  pounds  English  money.  Grandfather 
used  to  go  over  to  the  old  orchard  for  apples.  But 
think  of  Boston  being  bought  for  thirty  pounds! " 

"  It  wasn't  this  Boston  with  the  houses  and  churches 


OUT   TO   TEA.  45 

and  everything.  Come,  do  get  along,  or  else  let  me 
drive,"  said  Betty. 

There  was  quite  a  descent  as  they  came  down. 
Streets  seemed  to  stop  suddenly,  and  you  had  to  make  a 
curve  to  get  into  the  next  one.  From  Main  they  turned 
into  Fish  Street,  and  here  the  wind  from  the  harbor 
swept  across  to  the  Mill  Pond. 

That's  Long  Wharf,  and  it  has  lots  of  famous  stories 
connected  with  it.  And  just  down  there  is  father's. 
And  now  we  could  cut  across  and  go  over  home." 

"  As  if  we  meant  to  do  any  such  foolish  thing?  "  ejacu 
lated  Betty. 

"  I  said  we  could.  There  are  a  great  many  things  pos 
sible  that  are  not  advisable,"  returned  the  oracular  young 
man.  "  And  I  have  heard  the  longest  way  round  was 
the  surest  way  home.  We  shall  reach  there  about  nine 
o'clock  to-night." 

"  Like  the  old  woman  and  her  pig.  I  should  laugh  if 
we  found  mother  already  at  Uncle  Win's." 

"  She's  going  to  wait  for  father,  and  something  always 
happens  to  him." 

They  crossed  Market  Square,  and  passed  Faneuil  Hall, 
that  was  to  grow  more  famous  as  the  years  went  on: 
then  they  took  Cornhill  and  went  over  to  Marlborough 
Street. 

"  That's  Fort  Hill.  It's  lovely  in  summer,  when  the 
wind  doesn't  blow  you  to  shreds.  Now  we  will  take 
Marlborough,  and  to-night  you  will  be  surprised  to  see 
how  straight  it  is  to  Sudbury  Street." 

They  drove  rapidly  down,  and  made  one  turn.  It  was 
like  a  beautiful  country  road,  over  to  Common  Street, 
and  there  was  the  great  tract  of  ground  that  would  grow 
more  beautiful  with  every  decade.  Tall,  overarching 
trees ;  ways  that  were  grassy  a  month  ago,  but  now  turn 
ing  brown. 


46          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD    BOSTON. 

"  Here  we  are,"  and  they  turned  up  a  driveway  at  the 
side  of  the  long  porch  upheld  with  round  columns. 
Betty  sprang  out  on  the  stepping  block  and  half-lifted 
Doris,  while  Warren  drove  up  to  the  barn. 

Uncle  Winthrop  came  out  to  welcome  them,  and 
smiled  down  into  the  little  girl's  face. 

"  But  where  is  your  mother?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  she  had  some  shopping  to  do  and  then  she  was 
to  meet  father.  We  have  been  driving  up  around  Copp's 
Hill  and  giving  Doris  a  peep  at  the  country." 

"  The  wind  begins  to  blow  up  sharply,  though  it  was 
very  pleasant.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  little  Doris,  and  I 
hope  you  have  not  grown  homesick  sighing  for  Old  Bos 
ton.  For  if  you  should  reach  the  threescore-and-ten, 
things  will  have  changed  so  much  that  this  will  be  old 
Boston;  and,  Betty,  you  will  be  telling  your  grandchil 
dren  what  it  was  like." 

Betty  laughed  gayly. 

There  was  the  same  wide  hall  as  at  home,  but  it  wasn't 
the  keeping-room  here.  It  had  a  great  fireplace,  and  at 
one  side  a  big  square  sofa.  The  floor  was  inlaid  with 
different-colored  woods,  following  geometric  designs, 
much  like  those  of  to-day.  Before  the  fire  was  a  rug  of 
generous  dimensions,  and  a  high-backed  chair  stood  on 
each  of  the  nearest  corners.  There  was  a  bookcase  with 
some  busts  ranged  on  the  top;  there  were  some  por 
traits  of  ancestors  in  military  attire,  and  women  with 
enormous  head-dresses;  there  was  one  in  a  Puritan  cap, 
wide  collar,  and  a  long-sleeved  gown,  that  quite  spoiled 
the  effect  of  her  pretty  hands.  Over  the  mantel  was  a 
pair  of  very  large  deer's  antlers.  Down  at  one  corner 
there  were  two  swords  crossed  and  some  other  firearms. 
Just  under  them  was  a  cabinet  with  glass  doors  that  con 
tained  many  curiosities. 

A  tall,  thin  woman  entered  from  a  door  at  the  lower 


OUT   TO   TEA.  47 

end  of  the  hall  and  greeted  Betty  with  a  quiet  dignity 
that  would  have  seemed  cold,  if  it  had  not  been  the  usual 
manner  of  Recompense  Gardiner,  who  could  never  have 
been  effusive,  and  who  took  it  for  granted  that  anyone 
Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  invited  to  the  house  was  welcome. 
Her  forehead  was  high  and  rather  narrow,  her  brown 
hair  was  combed  straight  back  and  twisted  in  a  little  knot 
high  on  her  head,  in  which  in  the  afternoon,  or  on  com 
pany  occasions,  she  wore  a  large  shell  comb.  Her  fea 
tures  were  rather  long  and  spare,  and  she  wore  plain 
little  gold  hoops  in  her  ears  because  her  eyes  had  been 
weak  in  youth  and  it  was  believed  this  strengthened 
them.  Anyhow,  she  could  see  well  enough  at  five-and- 
forty  to  detect  a  bit  of  dust  or  dirt,  or  lint  left  on  a  plate 
from  the  towel,  or  a  chair  that  was  a  trifle  out  of  its 
rightful  place.  She  was  an  excellent  housekeeper,  and 
suited  her  master  exactly. 

"  This  is  the  little  English  girl  I  was  telling  you  about, 
Recompense — Cousin  Charles'  grandniece,  and  my 
ward,"  announced  Mr.  Adams. 

"  How  do  you  do,  child!  Let  me  take  off  your  hood 
and  cloak.  Why,  she  isn't  very  stout  or  rosy.  She 
might  have  been  born  here  in  the  east  wind.  And  she 
is  an  Adams  through  and  through." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  with  an  expression  of  pleasure, 
as  Recompense  held  her  off  and  looked  her  over. 

"  Are  her  eyes  black?  "  rather  disapprovingly. 

"  No,  the  very  darkest  blue  you  can  imagine,"  said 
Mr.  Adams. 

"  Betty,  run  upstairs  with  these  things.  Your  feet  are 
younger  than  mine,  and  haven't  done  so  much  trotting 
round.  Lay  them  on  my  bed.  Why,  where's  your 
mother?  "  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 

Betty  made  the  proper  explanation  and  skipped  lightly 
upstairs. 


48         A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

Mr.  Adams  took  one  of  the  large  chairs,  drawing  it 
closer  to  the  fire.  Recompense  brought  out  a  stool  for 
the  little  girl.  It  was  covered  with  thick  crimson  bro 
cade,  a  good  deal  faded,  but  it  had  a  warm,  inviting 
aspect.  Children  were  not  expected  to  sit  in  chairs 
then,  or  to  run  about  and  ask  what  everything  was  for. 

There  had  been  children,  little  girls  of  different  rela 
tives,  sitting  at  the  fireside  before.  His  own  small  boy 
had  dozed  in  the  fascinating  warmth  of  the  fire  and  hated 
to  go  to  bed,  and  he  had  weakly  indulged  him,  as  there 
had  been  no  mother  to  exercise  authority.  But  Doris 
was  different.  She  was  alone  in  the  world,  and  had  been 
sent  to  him  by  a  mysterious  providence.  He  knew  the 
responsibility  of  a  girl  must  be  greater.  He  couldn't 
send  her  to  the  Latin  school  and  then  to  Harvard,  and 
he  really  wondered  how  much  education  a  girl  ought  to 
have  to  fit  her  for  the  position  Doris  would  be  able  to 
take. 

She  was  like  a  quaint  picture  sitting  there.  Betty  had 
tied  a  cluster  of  curls  high  on  her  head  with  a  blue  rib 
bon,  and  just  a  few  were  left  to  cling  about  her  neck 
over  the  lace  tucker.  Her  slim  hands  lay  in  her  lap. 
He  glanced  at  his  own — yes,  they  were  Adams  hands, 
and  looked  little  like  hard  work.  He  was  rather  proud 
that  Recompense  should  discern  a  family  likeness. 

Betty  came  flying  down  the  oaken  staircase,  and  War 
ren  entered  from  the  back  door.  For  a  few  moments 
there  was  quite  a  confusion  of  tongues,  and  Recompense 
wondered  how  mothers  stood  it  all  the  time. 

"  How  queer  not  to  have  anyone  know  about  Bos 
ton,"  began  Warren  with  a  teasing  glance  over  at  Doris. 
"  We  have  been  looking  at  it  from  Copp's  Hill,  and 
going  through  the  odd  places." 

"  And  I  wondered  if  people  came  to  be  fed  in  White 
Bread  Alley,"  exclaimed  Doris  quickly. 


OUT   TO   TEA.  49 

"  And  I  dare  say  Warren  didn't  know." 

"  Why,  yes — a  woman  baked  bread  there." 

"  Women  have  baked  bread  in  a  great  many  places," 
returned  Uncle  Win,  with  a  quizzical  smile. 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  just  that." 

"  It  was  John  Tudor's  mother,"  appended  Betty. 

"  Mrs.  Tudor  made  the  first  penny  rolls  offered  for 
sale  in  Boston,  and  little  John,  as  he  was  then,  took  them 
around  for  sale." 

"  And  Mr.  Benjamin  Franklin  didn't  make  them  fa 
mous  either,"  laughed  Warren. 

"  And  Salutation  Alley  with  its  queer  sign — its  two  old 
men  with  cocked  hats  and  small  clothes,  bowing  to  each 
other,"  said  Betty.  "  It  always  suggests  a  couplet  I 
found  in  an  old  book: 

"  '  O  mortal  man  who  lives  by  bread, 
What  is  it  makes  your  nose  so  red  ? 
O  mortal  man  with  cheeks  so  pale, 
'Tis  drinking  Levi  Puncheon's  ale  ! '  " 

"  It  is  said  the  resolutions  for  the  destruction  of  the 
tea  were  drawn  up  in  the  old  tavern.  It  was  famous  for 
being  the  rendezvous  of  the  patriots." 

"  It  would  be  nice  to  drive  all  around  Boston  shore." 

"  Let  it  be  summer  time,  then,"  rejoined  Betty.  "  Or, 
like  the  Hollanders,  we  might  do  it  on  skates.  Of  course 
you  do  not  know  how  to  skate,  Doris?  " 

Doris  admitted  with  winsome  frankness  that  she  did 
not.  But  she  could  ride  a  pony,  and  she  could  row  a 
little. 

"  There  are  some  delightful  summer  parties  when  we 
do  go  out  rowing.  At  least,  the  boys  row  mostly,  be 
cause 

"  '  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do  ! '  " 

and  Betty  laughed. 


So         A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

"  And  the  girls  always  take  their  knitting,"  appended 
Warren.  "  There's  never  any  mischief  for  them  to  get 
into." 

"  I  suppose  it  doesn't  look  much  like  Old  Boston," 
inquired  Miss  Recompense.  "  And  what  do  the  little 
girls  do  there,  my  dear?  " 

Warren  opened  his  eyes  wide.  The  idea  of  Miss 
Recompense  saying  "  my  dear  "  to  a  child. 

It  had  slipped  out  in  a  curiously  unpremeditated 
fashion.  There  was  something  about  the  little  girl — per 
haps  it  was  the  fact  of  her  having  come  so  far,  and  being 
an  orphan — that  moved  Recompense  Gardiner. 

"  I  didn't  know  any  real  little  girls,"  answered  Doris 
modestly,  "  except  the  farmer's  children.  They  worked 
out  of  doors  in  the  summer  in  the  fields." 

"  And  I  was  the  youngest  of  five  sisters,"  said  Miss 
Recompense.  "  There  were  three  boys." 

"  It  would  be  so  nice  to  have  a  sister  of  one's  very 
own.  There  were  Sallie  and  Helen  Jewett  on  the 
vessel." 

"  I  think  I  like  the  sisters  to  be  older,"  said  Betty 
archly.  "  There  are  the  weddings  and  the  nieces  and 
nephews.  And  they  are  always  begging  you  to  visit 
them." 

"  And  I  had  no  sisters,"  said  Uncle  Win,  as  if  he  would 
fain  console  Doris  for  her  loneliness. 

She  glanced  up  with  sympathetic  sweetness.  He  was 
a  little  puzzled  at  the  intuitive  process. 

"  Fix  up  the  fire,  Warren.  Your  mother  and  father 
will  be  cold  when  they  get  in." 

Warren  gave  the  burned  log  a  poke,  and  it  fell  in  two 
ends,  neither  dropping  over  the  andirons.  Then  he 
pushed  them  a  little  nearer  and  a  shower  of  sparks  flew 
about. 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful !  "  and  Doris  leaned  over  intently. 


OUT   TO   TEA.  51 

Warren  placed  a  large  log  back  of  them,  then  he  piled 
on  some  smaller  split  pieces.  They  began  to  blaze 
shortly.  He  picked  up  the  turkey's  wing  and  brushed 
around  the  stone  hearth. 

"  That  was  very  well  done,"  remarked  Miss  Recom 
pense  approvingly. 

"  Warren  knows  how  to  make  a  fire,"  said  his  uncle, 
"  and  it  is  quite  an  art." 

"  That  is  a  sign  he  will  make  a  good  husband,"  com 
mented  Betty.  "  And  I  shall  get  a  bad  one,  for  my  fires 
go  out  half  the  time." 

"  You  are  too  heedless,"  said  Miss  Recompense. 

"  Now,  we  ought  to  tell  some  ghost  stories,"  suggested 
Warren.  "  Or  we  could  wait  until  it  gets  a  little  darker. 
The  sun  is  going  down,  and  the  fire  is  coming  up,  and 
just  see  how  they  are  fighting  at  the  Spanish  Armada. 
Uncle  Win,  when  you  break  up  housekeeping  you  can 
leave  me  that  picture." 

They  all  turned  to  look  at  the  picture  in  the  cross  light, 
with  one  of  the  wonderful  fleet  ablaze  from  the  broadside 
of  her  enemy.  It  was  a  vigorous  if  somewhat  crude 
painting  by  a  Dutch  artist. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Win,"  cried  Betty;  "  do  you  really  think 
there  will  be  war  when  we  have  a  new  President?  " 

"  I  sincerely  hope  not." 

"  We  ought  to  have  an  Armada.  Well,  I  don't  know 
either,"  continued  Warren  dubiously.  "  If  it  should  go 
to  pieces  like  that  one,"  nodding  his  head  over  to  the 
scene,  growing  more  vivid  by  the  reflection  of  the  red 
light  in  the  west.  "  Doris,  do  you  know  what  happened 
to  the  Spanish  Armada?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  returned  Doris  spiritedly.  "  I  may 
not  know  so  much  about  America,  except  that  you 
fought  England,  and  were  called  rebels  and — and " 

"  That  we  were  the  upper  dog  in  the  fight,  and  now 


52          A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

we  are  citizens  of  a  great  and  free  Republic  and  rebels  no 
longer." 

"  But  the  Spanish  did  not  conquer  England.  Some 
of  the  ships  were  destroyed  by  English  men-of-war,  and 
then  a  terrific  storm  wrecked  them,  and  there  were  only 
a  few  to  return  to  Spain." 

"  Pretty  good,"  said  Uncle  Win  smilingly.  "  And 
now,  Warren,  maybe  you  can  tell  about  the  French  Ar 
mada  that  was  going  to  destroy  Boston." 

"  Why,  the  French — came  and  helped  us.  Oh,  there 
was  the  French  and  English  war,  but  did  they  have  a 
real  Armada?  " 

"  Why,  after  Louisburg  was  taken  by  the  colonists — 
we  were  only  Colonies  in  1745.  The  French  resolved  to 
destroy  all  the  towns  the  colonists  had  planted  on  the 
coast.  You  surely  can't  have  forgotten?" 

"  The  Revolution  seems  so  much  greater  to  this  gen 
eration,"  said  Miss  Recompense.  "  That  is  almost 
seventy  years  ago.  My  father  was  called  out  for  the 
defense  of  Boston.  Governor  Shirley  knew  it  would  be 
the  first  town  attacked." 

"  And  a  real  Armada!  "  said  Warren,  big-eyed. 

"  They  didn't  call  it  that  exactly.  Perhaps  they 
thought  the  name  unlucky.  But  there  were  twenty 
transports  and  thirty-four  frigates  and  eleven  ships  of 
the  line.  Quite  a  formidable  array,  you  must  admit. 
The  Due  d'Anville  left  Brest  with  five  battalions  of 
veterans." 

"  And  then  what  happened?  Warren,  we  do  not  know 
the  history  of  our  own  city,  after  all.  But  surely  they 
did  not  take  it?" 

"  No,  it  is  safely  anchored  to  a  bit  of  mainland  yet," 
said  Uncle  Win  dryly.  "  Off  Cape  Sable  they  encoun 
tered  a  violent  storm.  The  Due  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  rendezvous,  but  in  such  a  damaged  condition  that 


OUT  TO   TEA.  53 

he  felt  a  victory  would  be  impossible.  Conflans  with 
several  partly  disabled  ships  returned  to  France,  and 
some  steered  for  friendly  ports  in  the  West  Indies.  The 
Due  died  in  less  than  a  week,  of  poison  it  was  said,  unwil 
ling  to  endure  the  misfortune.  The  Governor  General 
of  Canada  ordered  the  Vice  Admiral  to  proceed  and 
strike  one  blow  at  least.  But  he  saw  so  many  difficulties 
in  the  way,  that  he  worried  himself  ill  with  a  fever  and 
put  himself  to  death  with  his  own  sword.  Boston  was 
so  well  prepared  for  them  by  this  time,  the  fleet  decided 
to  attack  Annapolis,  but  encountering  another  furious 
storm  they  returned  to  France  with  the  remnant.  So 
Armadas  do  not  seem  to  meet  with  brilliant  success." 

"  Why,  that  is  quite  a  romance,  Uncle  Win,  and  I  must 
hunt  it  up.  Curious  that  both  should  have  shared  so 
nearly  the  same  fate." 

"  That  was  a  special  interposition  of  Providence,"  said 
Miss  Recompense. 

People  believed  quite  strongly  in  such  things  then, 
and  it  certainly  looked  like  it,  since  the  storm  was  of  no 
human  agency. 

Miss  Recompense  began  to  light  the  candles,  and  the 
steps  of  the  tardy  ones  were  heard  on  the  porch.  Betty 
sprang  up  and  opened  the  door. 

"  I  began  to  think  I  never  should  get  here,"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Leverett.  "  I  waited  and  waited  for  your  father, 
and  I  thought  something  had  surely  happened." 

"  And  so  it  had.  Captain  Conklin  is  going  to  start  for 
China  in  a  few  days,  and  there  was  so  much  to  talk  about 
I  couldn't  get  away." 

"  If  I  had  been  real  sure  he  would  have  come  on  I 
would  have  started.  It  has  blown  off  cold.  Didn't  you 
have  a  breezy  ride?  Were  you  warm  enough,  Doris?" 

"  It  was  splendid,"  replied  Doris,  her  eyes  shining. 
"  And  I  have  seen  so  many  things." 


54          A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Now  get  good  and  warm  and  come  out  to  supper." 

"  If  you  call  this  cold  I  don't  know  what  you  will  do  at 
midwinter." 

"  Well,  it  is  chilly,  and  we  are  not  used  to  it.  But  we 
must  have  our  Indian  summer  yet." 

Betty  had  been  carrying  away  her  mother's  hat  and 
shawl,  and  now  Uncle  Win  led  the  way  to  the  dining 
room.  The  table  was  bountifully  spread;  it  was  a  sort 
of  high  tea,  and  in  those  days  people  ate  with  a  hearty 
relish  and  had  not  yet  discovered  the  thousand  dangers 
lurking  in  food.  If  it  was  good  and  well  cooked  no  one 
asked  any  farther  questions.  At  least,  men  did  not. 
Women  took  recipes  of  this  and  that,  and  invented  new 
ways  of  preparing  some  dish  with  as  much  elation  as 
some  of  the  greater  discoveries  have  given. 

The  men  talked  politics  and  the  possibilities  of  war. 
There  was  an  uneasy  feeling  all  along  the  border,  where 
Indian  troubles  were  being  fomented.  There  were  some 
unsettled  questions  between  us  and  England.  Abroad, 
Napoleon  was  making  such  strides  that  it  seemed  as  if 
he  might  conquer  all  Europe. 

Mrs.  Leverett  and  Miss  Recompense  compared  their 
successes  in  pickling  and  preserving,  and  discussed  the 
high  prices  of  dry  goods  and  the  newer  scant  skirts  that 
would  take  so  much  less  cloth  and  the  improvement  in 
home-made  goods.  Carpets  of  the  higher  grades  were 
beginning  to  be  manufactured  in  Philadelphia. 

Warren,  with  the  appetite  of  a  healthy  young  fellow, 
thought  everything  tasted  uncommonly  good,  and  really 
had  nothing  to  say.  Doris  watched  one  and  another, 
with  soft  dark  eyes,  and  wondered  if  it  would  be  right  to 
like  Uncle  Win  any  better  than  she  did  Uncle  Leverett, 
and  why  she  had  any  desire  to  do  so,  which  troubled  her 
a  little.  Uncle  Win  was  the  handsomest.  She  liked  the 
something  about  him  that  she  came  to  know  afterward 


OUT   TO   TEA.  55 

was  culture  and  refinement.  But  she  was  a  very  loyal 
little  girl,  and  Uncle  Leverett  had  welcomed  her  so 
warmly,  even  on  board  the  vessel. 

After  supper  they  went  into  Uncle  Winthrop's  study 
a  while.  There  were  more  bookcases,  and  such  a  quan 
tity  of  books  and  pamphlets  and  papers.  There  were 
busts  of  some  of  the  old  Roman  orators  and  emperors, 
and  more  paintings.  There  was  a  beautiful  young  woman 
with  a  head  full  of  soft  curls  and  two  bands  passed 
through  them  in  Greek  fashion.  A  scarf  was  loosely 
wound  around  her  shoulders,  showing  her  white,  shapely 
throat,  and  her  short  sleeves  displayed  almost  perfect 
arms  that  looked  like  sculpture.  Later  Doris  came  to 
know  this  was  Uncle  Winthrop's  sweet  young  wife,  who 
died  when  her  little  boy  was  scarcely  a  year  old. 

There  were  many  curiosities.  The  walls  were  wain 
scoted  in  panels,  with  moldings  about  them  that  looked 
like  another  frame  for  the  pictures.  The  chimney  piece 
was  of  wood,  and  exquisitely  carved.  There  was  an  old 
escritoire  that  was  both  carved  and  gilded,  and  in  the 
center  of  the  room  a  large  round  table  strewn  with  books 
and  writing  materials.  At  the  windows  were  heavy  red 
damask  curtains,  lined  with  yellow  brocade.  They  were 
always  put  up  the  first  of  October  and  taken  down  punc 
tually  the  first  day  of  April.  Uncle  Win  had  a  luxurious 
side  to  his  nature,  and  there  was  a  soft  imported  rug  in 
the  room  as  well. 

Carpets  were  not  in  general  use.  Many  floors  were 
polished,  some  in  the  finer  houses  inlaid.  Rag  carpets 
were  used  for  warmth  in  winter,  and  some  were  beauti 
fully  made.  Weaving  them  was  quite  a  business,  and 
numbers  of  women  were  experts  at  it.  Sometimes  it  was 
in  a  hit-or-miss  style,  the  rags  sewed  just  as  one  happened 
to  pick  them  up.  Then  they  were  made  of  the  ribbon 
pattern,  a  broad  stripe  of  black  or  dark,  with  narrower 


56          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

and  wider  colors  alternating.     The  rags  were  often  col 
ored  to  get  pretty  effects. 

It  was  a  long  walk  home,  but  in  those  days,  when  there 
were  neither  cars  nor  cabs,  people  were  used  to  walking, 
and  the  two  men  would  not  mind  it.  Betty  could  drive 
Jack  by  night  or  day,  as  he  was  a  sure-footed,  steady- 
going  animal,  and  for  a  distance  the  road  was  straight 
up  Beacon  Street. 

"  Some  day  I  will  come  up  and  take  you  out  to  see  a 
little  more  of  your  new  home,"  said  Uncle  Winthrop  to 
Doris.  "  When  does  she  go  to  school,  Elizabeth?" 

"  Why,  I  thought  it  would  be  as  well  for  her  to  begin 
next  week.  From  eight  to  twelve.  And  she  is  so  young 
there  is  no  real  need  of  her  beginning  other  things. 
Betty  can  teach  her  to  sew  and  do  embroidery." 

"  There  is  her  French.  It  would  be  a  pity  to  drop 
that." 

"  She  might  teach  me  French  for  the  sake  of  the  exer 
cise,"  returned  Betty  laughingly  when  Uncle  Win 
looked  so  perplexed. 

"  To  be  sure.  We  will  get  it  all  settled  presently." 
He  felt  rather  helpless  where  a  girl  was  concerned,  yet 
when  he  glanced  down  into  her  soft,  wistful  eyes  he 
wished  somehow  that  she  was  living  here.  But  it  would 
be  lonely  for  a  child. 

Warren  brought  Jack  around  and  helped  in  the 
womenkind  when  they  had  said  all  their  good-nights, 
and  Uncle  Win  added  that  he  would  be  over  some  even 
ing  next  week  to  supper. 

It  was  a  clear  night,  but  there  was  no  moon.  Jack 
tossed  up  his  head  and  trotted  along,  with  the  common 
on  one  side  of  him. 

Boston  had  been  improving  very  much  in  the  last  de 
cade,  and  stretching  herself  out  a  little.  But  it  was  quite 
country-like  where  Uncle  Win  lived.  He  liked  the 


A   MORNING   AT   SCHOOL.  57 

quiet  and  the  old  house,  the  great  trees  and  his  garden 
that  gave  him  all  kinds  of  vegetables  and  some  choice 
fruit,  though  he  never  did  anything  more  arduous  than  to 
superintend  it  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  Jonas  Starr's 
labor. 


CHAPTER   V. 

A    MORNING    AT     SCHOOL. 

/"~\UR  ancestors  for  some  occult  reason  held  early  ris- 
^^  ing  in  high  esteem.  Why  burning  fire  and  candle 
light  in  the  morning,  when  everything  was  cold  and 
dreary,  should  look  so  much  more  virtuous  and  heroic 
than  sitting  up  a  while  at  night  when  the  house  was  warm 
and  everything  pleasant,  is  one  of  the  mysteries  to  be 
solved  only  by  the  firm  belief  that  the  easy,  comfortable 
moments  were  the  seasons  especially  susceptible  to  temp 
tation,  and  that  sacrifice  and  austerity  were  the  guide- 
posts  on  the  narrow  way  to  right  living. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leverett  had  been  reared  in  that  man 
ner.  They  had  softened  in  many  ways,  and  Betty  was 
often  told,  "  I  had  no  such  indulgences  when  I  was  a 
girl."  But,  mother-like,  Mrs.  Leverett  "  eased  up  " 
many  things  for  Betty.  Electa  King  half  envied  them, 
and  yet  she  confessed  in  her  secret  heart  that  she  had  en 
joyed  her  girlhood  and  her  lover  very  much.  She  and 
Matthias  King  had  been  neighbors  and  played  as  chil 
dren,  went  to  church  and  to  singing  school  together, 
and  on  visitors'  night  at  the  debating  society  she  was 
sure  to  be  the  visitor.  Girls  did  not  have  just  that  kind 
of  boy  friends  now,  she  thought. 

The  softening  of  religious  prejudices  was  softening 
character  as  well.  Yet  the  intensity  of  Puritanism  had 


58          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

kindled  a  force  of  living  that  had  done  a  needed  work. 
People  really  discussed  religious  problems  nowadays, 
while  even  twenty  years  before  it  was  simply  belief  or 
disbelief,  and  the  latter  "  was  not  to  be  suffered  among 
you." 

Mrs.  Leverett  kept  to  her  habit  of  early  rising.  True, 
dark  and  stormy  mornings  Mr.  Leverett  allowed  himself 
a  little  latitude,  for  very  few  people  came  to  buy  his 
wares  early  in  the  morning.  But  breakfast  was  a  little 
after  six,  except  on  Sunday  morning,  when  it  dropped 
down  to  seven. 

And  Mrs.  Webb's  school  began  at  eight  from  the  first 
day  of  February  to  the  first  day  of  November.  The  in 
tervening  three  months  it  was  half-past  eight  and  con 
tinued  to  half-past  twelve. 

Doris  came  home  quite  sober.  "  Well,"  began  Uncle 
Leverett,  "  how  did  school  go?  " 

"  I  didn't  like  it  very  much,"  she  answered  slowly. 

"  What  did  you  do?  " 

"  I  read  first.  Four  little  girls  and  two  boys  read. 
We  all  stood  in  a  row." 

"What  then?" 

"  We  spelled.  But  I  did  not  know  where  the  lesson 
was,  and  I  think  Mrs.  Webb  gave  me  easy  words." 

"  And  you  did  not  enjoy  that?  "  Uncle  Leverett  gave 
a  short  laugh. 

"  I  was  glad  not  to  miss,"  she  replied  gravely. 

"  Mrs.  Webb  uses  Dilworth's  speller,"  said  Mrs.  Lev 
erett,  "and  so  I  gave  her  Betty's.  But  she  has  a  different 
reader.  She  thought  Doris  read  uncommon  well." 

"  And  what  came  next?  " 

"  They  said  tables  all  together.  Why  do  they  call 
them  tables?  " 

"  Because  a  system  of  calculation  would  be  too  long  a 
name,"  he  answered  dryly. 


A   MORNING  AT   SCHOOL.  59 

Doris  looked  perplexed.  "  Then  there  was  geog 
raphy.  What  a  large  place  America  is !  "  and  she  sighed. 

"  Yes,  the  world  is  a  good-sized  planet,  when  you  come 
to  consider.  And  America  is  only  one  side  of  it." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  keeps  going  round." 

"  That  must  be  viewed  with  the  eye  of  faith,"  com 
mented  Betty. 

"  All  that  does  very  well.  I  am  sorry  you  did  not 
like  it." 

"  I  did  like  all  that,"  returned  Doris  slowly.  "  But  the 
sums  troubled  me." 

"  She's  very  backward  in  figures,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett. 
"  Betty,  you  must  take  her  in  hand." 

"  I  must  study  all  the  afternoon,"  said  Doris. 

"  Oh,  you'll  soon  get  into  the  traces,"  said  Uncle  Lev 
erett  consolingly. 

It  was  Monday  and  wash-day  in  every  well-ordered 
family.  Mrs.  Leverett  and  Betty  had  the  washing  out 
early,  but  it  was  not  a  brisk  drying  day,  so  no  ironing 
could  be  done  in  the  afternoon.  Betty  changed  her 
gown  and  brought  out  her  sewing,  and  Doris  studied  her 
lessons  with  great  earnestness. 

"  I  wish  I  was  sure  I  knew  the  spelling,"  she  said  wist 
fully. 

"  Well,  let  me  hear  you."  Betty  laid  the  book  on  the 
wide  window  sill  and  gave  out  the  words  between  the 
stitches,  and  Doris  spelled  every  one  rightly  but  "  per 
ceive." 

"  Those  i's  and  e's  used  to  bother  me,"  said  Betty.  "  I 
made  a  list  of  them  once  and  used  to  go  over  them  until 
I  could  spell  them  in  the  dark." 

"  Is  it  harder  to  spell  in  the  dark?  " 

"Oh,  you  innocent!"  laughed  Betty.  "That  means 
you  could  spell  them  anywhere." 

Spelling  had  been  rather  a  mysterious  art,  but  Mr. 


60          A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Dilworth,  and  now  Mr.  Noah  Webster,  had  been  regulat 
ing  it  according  to  a  system. 

"  Now  you  might  go  over  some  tables.  You  can  add 
and  multiply  so  much  faster  when  you  know  them. 
Suppose  we  try  them  together." 

That  was  very  entertaining  and,  Doris  began  to  think, 
not  as  difficult  as  she  had  imagined  in  the  morning. 

"  Betty,"  said  her  mother,  when  there  was  a  little  lull, 
"  what  do  you  suppose  has  become  of  Aunt  Priscilla?  I 
do  hope  she  did  not  come  over  the  day  we  were  at  Cousin 
Winthrop's.  But  she  never  was  here  once  last  week." 

"  There  were  two  rainy  days." 

"  And  she  may  be  ill.  I  think  you  had  better  go  down 
and  see." 

"Yes.  Don't  you  want  to  go,  Doris?  The  walk  will 
be  quite  fun." 

Doris  could  not  resist  the  coaxing  eyes,  though  she 
felt  she  ought  to  stay  and  study.  But  Betty  promised  to 
go  over  lessons  with  her  when  they  came  back.  So  in  a 
few  moments  they  were  ready  for  the  change.  Mrs. 
Leverett  sent  a  piece  of  cake  and  some  fresh  eggs,  quite 
a  rarity  now. 

The  houses  and  shops  seemed  so  close  together,  Doris 
thought.  And  they  met  so  many  people.  Doris  had 
not  lived  directly  in  Old  Boston  town,  but  quite  in  the 
outskirts.  And  King  Street  was  getting  to  be  quite  full 
of  business. 

Black  Polly  came  to  the  door.  "  Yes,  missus  was  in 
but  she  had  an  awful  cold,  and  been  all  stopped  up  so 
that  she  could  hardly  get  the  breath  of  life." 

Aunt  Priscilla  had  a  strip  of  red  flannel  pinned  around 
her  forehead,  holding  in  place  a  piece  of  brown  paper, 
moistened  with  vinegar,  her  unfailing  remedy  for  head 
ache.  Another  band  was  around  her  throat,  and  she  had 
a  well-worn  old  shawl  about  her  shoulders,  while  her 


A   MORNING   AT    SCHOOL.  61 

feet  rested  on  a  box  on  which  was  placed  a  warm 
brick. 

"  Is  it  possible  you  have  come?  Why,  one  might  be 
dead  and  buried  and  no  one  the  wiser.  I  crawled  out  to 
church  on  Sunday,  and  took  more  cold,  though  I  have 
heard  people  say  you  wouldn't  catch  cold  going  to 
church.  Religion  ought  to  keep  one  warm,  I  s'pose." 

"  I'm  sorry.     Mother  was  afraid  you  were  ill." 

"  And  I  have  all  the  visiting  to  do.  It  does  seem  as 
if  once  in  an  age  some  of  you  might  come  over.  You 
went  to  Cousin  Winthrop's!  "  in  an  aggrieved  tone. 

"  But  mother  had  not  been  there  since  last  summer, 
when  'Lecty  was  on  making  her  visit.  And  we  took  all 
the  family  along,  just  as  you  can,"  in  a  merry  tone. 
"  But  if  you  like  to  have  mother  come  and  spend  the  day, 
I'll  keep  house.  You  see,  there's  always  meals  to  get  for 
father  and  Warren." 

"  Yes,  I  kept  house  before  you  were  born,  Betty  Lev- 
erett,  and  had  a  man  who  needed  three  stout  meals  a  day. 
But  he  want  a  mite  of  trouble.  I  never  see  a  man  easier 
to  suit  than  Hatfield  Perkins.  And  I  didn't  neglect  him 
because  he  could  be  put  off  and  find  no  fault.  There  are 
men  in  the  world  that  it  would  take  the  grace  of  a  saint 
to  cook  for,  only  in  heaven  among  the  saints  if  there 
aint  any  marryin'  you  can  quite  make  up  your  mind  there 
isn't  any  cooking  either.  Well — can't  you  get  a  chair? 
There's  that  little  low  one  for  Dorothy." 

"  If  you  please,"  began  Doris,  with  quiet  dignity,  "  my 
name  is  not  Dorothy." 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  hear  yourself  called  by  a  Chris 
tian  name  once  in  a  while." 

"  Still  it  isn't  a  Scriptural  name,"  interposed  Betty. 
"  I  looked  over  the  list  to  see.  And  here  are  some  nice 
fresh  eggs.  Mother  has  had  several  splendid  layers  this 
fall." 


62          A    LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  I'm  obliged,  I'm  sure.  I  do  wish  I  could  keep  a  few- 
hens.  But  Jonas  Field  wants  so  much  room,  and  there's 
my  garden  herbs.  I've  just  been  dosing  on  sage  tea  and 
honey,  and  it  has  about  broke  up  my  cough.  I  generally 
do  take  one  cold  in  autumn,  and  then  I  go  to  March  be 
fore  I  get  another.  Well,  I  s'pose  Recompense  Gardi 
ner  stays  at  your  uncle's?  There  was  some  talk  I  heard 
about  some  old  fellow  hanging  round.  After  I'd  lived 
so  long  single,  I'd  stay  as  I  was." 

"  I  can't  imagine  Miss  Recompense  getting  her  wed 
ding  gown  ready.  What  would  it  be,  I  wonder?  " 

Betty  laughed  heartily. 

"  She  could  buy  the  best  in  the  market  if  she  chose," 
said  Aunt  Priscilla  sharply.  "  She  must  have  a  good  bit 
of  money  laid  by.  Cousin  Winthrop  would  be  lost  with 
out  her.  Not  but  what  there  are  as  good  housekeepers 
in  the  world  as  Recompense  Gardiner." 

Then  Aunt  Priscilla  had  to  stop  and  cough.  Polly 
came  in  with  some  posset. 

"  I'll  have  one  of  those  eggs  beaten  up  in  some  mulled 
cider,  Polly,"  she  said. 

Doris  glanced  curiously  at  the  old  colored  woman. 
She  was  tall  and  still  very  straight,  and,  though  kept  in 
strict  subjection  all  her  life,  had  an  air  and  bearing  of 
dignity,  as  if  she  might  have  come  from  some  royal  race. 
Her  hair  was  snowy  white,  and  the  little  braided  tails 
hung  below  her  turban,  which  was  of  gay  Madras,  and 
the  small  shoulder  shawl  she  wore  was  of  red  and  black. 

"  You're  too  old  a  woman  to  be  fussed  up  in  such  gay 
things,"  Aunt  Priscilla  would  exclaim  severely  every 
time  she  brought  them  home,  for  she  purchased  Polly's 
attire.  "  But  you've  always  worn  them,  and  I  really 
don't  know  as  you'd  look  natural  in  suitable  colors." 

"  I  like  cheerful  goin'  things,  that  make  you  feel  as  if 
the  Lord  had  just  let  out  a  summer  day  stead'er  Novem- 


A   MORNING  AT   SCHOOL.  63 

her.  An',  missus,  you  don't  like  a  gray  fire  burned  half 
to  ashes,  nuther." 

Truth  to  tell,  Aunt  Priscilla  did  hanker  after  a  bit  of 
gayety,  though  she  frowned  on  it  to  preserve  a  just  bal 
ance  with  conscience.  And  no  one  knew  the  parcels 
done  up  in  an  old  oaken  chest  in  the  storeroom,  that  had 
been  indulged  in  at  reprehensible  moments. 

Just  then  there  was  a  curious  diversion  to  Doris.  A 
beautiful  sleek  tiger  cat  entered  the  room,  and,  walking 
up  to  the  fire,  turned  and  looked  at  the  child,  waving  his 
long  tail  majestically  back  and  forth.  He  came  nearer 
with  his  sleepy,  translucent  eyes  studying  her. 

"  May  I — touch  him?  "  she  asked  hesitatingly. 

"  Land,  yes !  That's  Polly's  Solomon.  She  talks  to 
him  till  she's  made  him  most  a  witch,  and  she  thinks  he 
knows  everything." 

Solomon  settled  the  question  by  putting  two  snowy 
white  paws  on  Doris'  knee,  and  stretching  up  indefi 
nitely  with  a  dainty  sniffing  movement  of  the  whiskers, 
as  if  he  wanted  to  understand  whether  advances  would  be 
favorably  received. 

There  was  a  cat  at  the  Leveretts',  but  it  haunted  the 
cellar,  the  shed,  and  the  stable,  and  was  hustled  out  of 
the  kitchen  with  no  ceremony.  Aunt  Elizabeth  was  not 
fond  of  cats,  and  cat  hairs  were  her  abomination.  Doris 
had  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  delight  when  she  saw  it  one 
morning,  a  big  black  fellow  with  white  feet  and  a  white 
choker. 

"  Don't  touch  him — he'll  scratch  you  like  as  not!  "  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Leverett  in  a  quick  tone.  "  Get  out,  Tom! 
We  don't  allow  him  in  the  house.  He's  a  good  mouser, 
but  it  spoils  cats  to  nurse  them.  And  I  never  could 
abide  a  cat  around  under  my  feet." 

Doris  had  made  one  other  attempt  to  win  Tom's  favor 
as  she  was  walking  about  the  garden.  But  Tom  eyed 


64          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

her  askance  and  discreetly  declined  her  overture.  There 
had  always  been  cats  at  Miss  Arabella's,  and  two  great 
dogs  as  well  as  her  pony,  and  birds  so  tame  they  would 
fly  down  for  crumbs. 

"Oh,  kitty!"  She  touched  him  with  her  dainty  fin 
gers.  "  Solomon.  What  a  funny  name !  Oh,  you 
beautiful  great  big  cat !  " 

Solomon  rubbed  his  head  on  her  arm  and  began  to 
purr.  He  was  sure  of  a  welcome. 

"  You  can't  get  in  her  lap,  for  it  isn't  big  enough," 
said  Aunt  Priscilla.  "  Polly's  got  him  spoiled  out  of  all 
reason,  though  I  s'pose  a  cat's  company  when  there's 
no  one  else." 

"  If  you  would  let  me — sit  on  the  rug,"  ventured  Doris 
timidly.  She  had  been  rather  precise  of  late  in  her  new 
home. 

"  Well,  I  declare !  Sit  on  the  floor  if  you  want  to. 
The  floor  was  plenty  good  enough  to  sit  on  when  I  was 
a  child.  Me  and  my  sisters  had  a  corner  of  our  own,  and 
we'd  sit  there  and  sew." 

Betty  had  been  about  to  interpose,  but  at  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla's  concession  Doris  had  slidden  down  and  taken 
Solomon  in  her  arms,  and  rubbed  her  soft  cheek  against 
his  head.  Polly  came  in  with  the  egg  and  cider. 

"Why,  little  missy,  you  just  done  charm  him!  He's 
mighty  afeared  of  the  boys  around,  and  there  aint  no 
little  gals.  Do  just  see  him,  Mis'  Perkins.  He  acts  as 
if  he  was  rollin'  in  a  bed  of  sweet  catnip." 

"  One  is  about  as  wise  as  the  other,"  declared  Aunt 
Priscilla,  nodding  her  head.  She  was  rather  glad  there 
was  something  in  her  house  to  be  a  rival  to  Cousin  Win- 
throp  and  the  Leveretts,  since  Doris  Adams  was  to  be 
held  up  on  a  high  plane  and  spoiled  with  indulgence. 
She  had  not  yet  made  up  her  mind  whether  she  would 
like  the  child  or  not. 


A   MORNING   AT   SCHOOL.  65 

"  Yes,  she  had  started  at  Mrs.  Webb's  school.  Uncle 
Win  was  going  to  make  some  arrangement  about  her 
French  and  her  writing  when  he  came  over.  They'd 
had  a  letter  from  'Lecty,  and  as  the  legislature  was  to 
meet  in  Hartford  there  would  be  quite  gay  times,  and 
she  did  so  hope  she  could  go.  Mary  wasn't  very  well, 
and  wanted  mother  to  come  on  for  a  week  or  two  pres 
ently,"  and  Betty  made  big  eyes  at  Aunt  Priscilla,  while 
that  lady  nodded  as  well  as  her  bundled  up  head  would 
admit,  to  signify  that  she  understood. 

"  I'm  sure  you  ought  to  know  enough  to  keep  house 
for  your  father  and  Warren,"  was  the  comment. 

Then  Betty  said  they  must  go,  and  Aunt  Priscilla 
tartly  rejoined  that  they  might  look  in  and  see  whether 
she  was  dead  or  alive. 

"  Can  I  come  and  see  Solomon  again?  "  asked  Doris. 

"  Of  course,  since  Solomon  is  head  of  the  house." 

"  Thank  you,"  returned  Doris  simply,  not  understand 
ing  the  sarcasm. 

"  Wonderful  how  Solomon  liked  little  missy,"  said 
Polly,  straightening  the  chairs  and  restoring  order. 

"  My  head  aches  with  all  the  talking,"  said  Aunt  Pris 
cilla.  "  I  want  to  be  alone." 

But  she  felt  a  little  conscience-smitten  as  Polly  stepped 
about  in  the  kitchen  getting  supper  and  sang  in  a  thick, 
soft,  but  rather  quivering  voice,  her  favorite  hymn: 

"  '  Hark,  from  the  tombs  a  doleful  sound, 
Mine  ears,  attend  the  cry.'  " 

Yes,  Polly  was  a  faithful  old  creature,  only  she  had 
grown  forgetful,  and  she  was  losing  her  strength,  and 
black  people  gave  out  suddenly.  But  there,  what  was 
the  use  of  borrowing  trouble,  and  the  idea  of  having  a 
child  around  to  train  and  stew  over,  and  no  doubt  she 
would  be  getting  married  just  the  time  when  she,  Mrs. 


66          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Perkins,  would  need  her  the  most.  The  Lord  hadn't 
seen  fit  to  give  her  any  children  to  comfort  her  old  age; 
after  all,  would  she  want  a  delicate  little  thing  like  this 
child  with  a  heathenish  name! 

It  was  quite  chilly  now,  and  Doris,  holding  Betty's 
hand  tight,  skipped  along  merrily,  her  heart  strangely 
warm  and  gay. 

"  She's  very  queer,  and  her  voice  sounds  as  if  she 
couldn't  get  the  scold  out  of  it,  doesn't  it?  And  I  felt 
afraid  of  the  black  woman  first.  I  never  saw  any  until 
we  were  on  the  ship.  But  the  beautiful  cat!  "  with  a 
lingering  emphasis  on  the  adjective. 

"  Well — cats  are  cats,"  replied  Betty  sagely.  "  I  don't 
care  much  about  them  myself,  though  we  should  be  over 
run  with  rats  and  mice  if  it  wasn't  for  them.  I  like  a 
fine,  big  dog." 

"  Oh,  Betty! "  and  a  girl  caught  her  by  the  shoulder, 
turning  her  round  and  laughing  heartily  at  her  surprise. 

"  Why,  Jane !     How  you  startled  me." 

"  And  is  this  your  little  foreign  girl — French  or  some 
thing?  " 

"  English,  if  you  please,  and  her  father  was  born  here 
in  Boston.  And  isn't  it  queer  that  she  should  have  lived 
in  another  Boston?  And  her  name  is  Doris  Adams." 

"  I'm  sure  the  Adams  are  sown  thickly  enough  about, 
but  Doris  sounds  like  verses.  And,  oh,  Betty,  I've  been 
crazy  to  see  you  for  two  days.  I  am  to  have  a  real  party 
next  week.  I  shall  be  seventeen,  and  there  will  be  just 
that  number  invited.  The  girls  are  to  come  in  the  after 
noon  and  bring  their  sewing.  There  will  be  nine.  And 
eight  young  men,"  laughing — "  boys  that  we  know  and 
have  gone  sledding  with.  They  are  to  come  to  tea  at 
seven  sharp.  Cousin  Morris  is  to  bring  his  black  fiddler 
Joe,  and  we  are  going  to  dance,  and  play  forfeits,  and 
have  just  a  grand  time." 


A  MORNING  AT   SCHOOL.  67 

"  But  I  don't  know  how  to  dance — much." 

Betty's  highest  accomplishments  were  in  the  three  R's. 
Her  manuscript  arithmetic  was  the  pride  of  the  family, 
but  of  grammar  she  candidly  confessed  she  couldn't 
make  beginning  nor  end. 

"  I'm  going  to  coax  hard  to  go  to  dancing  school  this 
winter.  Sam  is  going,  and  he  says  all  the  girls  are  learn 
ing  to  dance.  Mother's  coming  round  to-morrow.  We 
want  to  be  sure  about  the  nine  girls.  Good-by,  it's  get 
ting  late." 

"  Now,  let's  hurry  home,"  exclaimed  Betty. 

The  table  was  laid,  and  Mrs.  Leverett  said: 

"  Why  didn't  you  stay  all  night?  " 

"  Aunt  Priscilla  has  her  autumn  cold.  She  was  quite 
cross  at  first.  She  was  sick  last  week,  and  went  to 
church  yesterday,  and  is  worse  to-day.  But  she  was 
glad  about  the  eggs." 

"  There  comes  your  father.     Be  spry  now." 

After  supper  Warren  went  out  to  look  after  Jack.  Mr. 
Leverett  took  his  chair  in  the  corner  of  the  wide  chim 
ney  and  pushed  out  the  stool  for  the  little  girl.  She 
smiled  as  she  sat  down  and  laid  her  hands  on  his  knee. 

"  So  you  didn't  like  the  school,"  he  began,  after  a  long 
silence. 

"  Yes — I  liked — most  of  it,"  rather  reluctantly. 

"What  was  it  you  didn't  like — sitting  still?" 

"  No— not  that." 

"  The  lessons?    Were  they  too  hard?  " 

"  She  said  I  needn't  mind  this  morning." 

"  But  the  figuring  bothered  you." 

"  Of  course  I  didn't  know,"  she  said  candidly. 

"  You  will  get  into  it  pretty  soon.  Betty  '11  train  you. 
She's  a  master  hand  at  figures,  smarter  than  Warren." 

Doris  made  no  comment,  but  there  was  an  unconfessed 
puzzle  in  her  large  eyes. 


68          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Well,  what  is  it?  "  The  interest  he  took  in  her  sur 
prised  himself. 

"  She  whipped  a  boy  on  his  hands  with  a  ruler  very 
hard  because  he  couldn't  remember  his  lesson." 

"  That's  a  good  aid  to  memory.  I've  seen  it  tried 
when  I  was  a  boy." 

"  But  if  I  had  tried  and  tried  and  studied  I  should  have 
thought  it  very  cruel." 

"  I  guess  he  didn't  try  or  study.  What  did  Miss  Ara 
bella  do  to  you  when  you  were  careless  and  forgot 
things?  Or  were  you  never  bad?" 

Doris  hung  her  head,  while  a  faint  color  mounted  to 
her  brow. 

"  When  I  was  naughty  I  couldn't  go  out  on  the  pony 
nor  take  him  a  lump  of  sugar.  And  he  loved  sugar  so. 
And  sometimes  I  had  to  study  a  psalm." 

"  And  weren't  children  ever  whipped  in  your  coun 
try?  " 

"  The  common  people  beat  their  children  and  their 
wives  and  their  horses  and  dogs.  But  Miss  Arabella 
was  a  lady.  She  couldn't  have  beaten  a  cat." 

There  was  a  switch  on  the  top  of  the  closet  in  the 
kitchen  that  beat  Tom  out  of  doors  when  he  ventured 
in.  Doris'  tender  heart  rather  resented  this. 

Foster  Leverett  smiled  at  this  distinction. 

"1  do  suppose  people  might  get  along,  but  boys  are 
often  very  trying." 

"  Don't  grown-up  people  ever  do  anything  wrong? 
And  when  they  scold  dreadfully  aren't  they  out  of  tem 
per?  Miss  Arabella  thought  it  very  unladylike  to  get 
out  of  temper.  And  what  is  done  to  grown  people?  " 

Uncle  Leverett  laughed  and  squeezed  the  soft  little 
hands  on  his  knee.  Yes,  men  and  women  flew  into 
a  rage  every  day.  Their  strict  training  had  not  given 
them  control  of  their  tempers.  It  had  not  made  them 


A   MORNING   AT    SCHOOL.  69 

all  honest  and  truthful.  Yet  it  might  have  been  the  best 
training  for  the  times,  for  the  heroic  duties  laid  upon 
them. 

"  She  was  very  cross  once,  and  her  forehead  all 
wrinkled  up,  and  her  eyes  were  so — so  hard;  and  when 
she  is  pleasant  she  has  beautiful  brown  eyes.  I  like 
beautiful  people." 

"  We  can't  all  be  beautiful  or  good-tempered." 

"  But  Miss  Arabella  said  we  could,  and  that  beauty 
meant  sweetness  and  grace  and  truth  and  kindliness, 
and  that " — she  lowered  her  voice  mysteriously — 
"  where  one  really  tried  to  be  good  God  gave  them  grace 
to  help.  I  don't  quite  know  about  the  grace,  I'm  so 
little.  But  I  want  to  be  good." 

Was  there  a  beautiful  side  to  goodness?  Foster  Lev- 
erett  had  been  for  some  time  weakening  in  the  old  faith. 

"  Now  I'm  ready,"  exclaimed  Betty  briskly.  "  We 
can  say  tables  without  any  book." 

Uncle  Leverett  laughed  and  squeezed  the  soft  little 
stranger  at  his  hearth.  But  affection  was  not  demon 
strative  in  those  days,  and  it  looked  rather  weak  in  a 
man. 

They  had  grand  fun  saying  addition  and  multiplication 
tables.  They  went  up  to  the  fives,  and  Doris  found  that 
here  was  a  wonderful  bridge. 

"  You  could  add  clear  up  to  a  hundred  without  any 
trouble,"  the  child  declared  gleefully.  "  But  you 
couldn't  multiply." 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Betty.  "  I  had  not  exactly  thought 
of  it  before.  Five  times  thirteen  would  be  sixty-five,  and 
so  on.  Five  times  twenty  would  be  a  hundred.  Why, 
we  do  it  in  a  great  many  things,  but  I  suppose  they — 
whoever  invented  tables  thought  that  was  far  enough  to 
go." 

"  Who  did  invent  them?  " 


70         A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  I  really  don't  know.  Doris,  we  will  ask  Uncle  Win 
when  he  comes  over.  He  knows  about  everything." 

"  It  would  take  a  great  many  years  to  learn  every 
thing,"  said  the  child  with  a  sigh. 

"  But  the  knowledge  goes  round,"  said  Betty  with 
arch  gayety.  "  One  has  a  little  and  the  other  a  little 
and  they  exchange,  and  then  women  don't  have  to  know 
as  much  as  men." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  the  man  that  knew  enough  to  keep 
house,"  declared  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  And  didn't  Mrs.  Abi 
gail  Adams  farm  and  bring  up  her  children  and  pay  off 
debts  while  her  husband  was  at  congress  and  war  and 
abroad?  It  isn't  so  much  book  learning  as  good  com 
mon  sense.  Just  think  what  the  old  Revolutionary 
women  did!  And  now  it  is  high  time  Doris  went  to 
bed.  Come,  child,  you're  so  sleepy  in  the  morning." 

Doris  had  her  dress  unbuttoned  and  untied  her 
shoes  to  make  sure  there  were  no  knots  to  pick 
out.  Knots  in  shoe-strings  were  very  perplexing  at  this 
period  when  no  one  had  dreamed  of  button  boots.  I 
doubt,  indeed,  if  anyone  would  have  worn  them.  The 
shoes  were  made  straight  and  changed  every  morning, 
so  as  to  wear  evenly  and  not  get  walked  over  at  the  side. 
And  people  had  pretty  feet  then,  with  arched  insteps,  and 
walked  with  an  air  of  dignity.  Some  of  the  gouty  old 
men  had  to  be  measured  for  a  tender  place  here  or  a 
protuberance  there,  or  allowance  made  for  bad  corn. 

Doris  said  good-night  and  went  upstairs.  Miss  Ara 
bella  had  always  kissed  her.  Betty  did  sometimes,  and 
said  "  What  a  sweet  little  thing  you  are!  "  or  "  What  a 
queer  little  thing  you  are!  "  She  said  her  prayers,  hung 
her  clothes  over  a  chair,  put  her  little  shoes  just  right  for 
morning,  and  stepping  on  the  chair  round  vaulted  over 
to  her  side  of  the  bed. 

What  a  long,  long  day  it  had  been !     The  most  beauti- 


A   MORNING   AT   SCHOOL.  71 

ful  thing  in  it  was  the  big  cat  Solomon,  and  if  she  could 
nurse  him  she  shouldn't  be  very  much  afraid  of  Aunt 
Priscilla.  Oh,  how  soft  his  fur  was,  and  how  he  purred, 
just  as  if  he  was  glad  she  had  come!  Perhaps  he  some 
times  tired  of  Aunt  Priscilla  and  black  Polly,  and  longed 
for  a  little  girl  who  didn't  mind  sitting  on  the  floor,  and 
who  knew  how  to  play. 

Then  there  was  the  spelling,  and  she  tried  to  think  over 
the  hard  words,  and  the  tables,  and  her  small  brain  kept 
up  such  a  riot  that  she  was  not  a  bit  sleepy. 

Betty  brought  out  her  work  after  lighting  another 
candle.  Mr.  Leverett  sat  and  dozed  and  thought. 
When  Warren  had  finished  up  the  chores  he  went  around 
to  the  other  side  of  Betty's  table,  and  was  soon  lost  in  a 
history  of  the  French  War.  When  the  tall  old  clock 
struck  nine  it  was  time  to  prepare  for  bed. 

Betty  was  putting  up  some  wisps  of  hair  in  tea  leads, 
when  Doris  sat  up. 

"  Oh,  you  midget!  Are  you  not  asleep  yet?  "  she  ex 
claimed. 

"  No.  I've  been  thinking  of  everything.  And,  Betty, 
can  you  go  to  the  party?  I  went  to  the  May  party  when 
I  was  home,  but  that  was  out  of  doors,  and  we  danced 
round  the  May  pole." 

"  The  party " 

"Yes,  did  you  ask  Aunt  Elizabeth?"  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  wasn't  going  to  be  caught  that  way.  She 
would  have  had  time  to  think  up  ever  so  many  excellent 
reasons  why  I  shouldn't  go.  And  now  Mrs.  Morse  will 
take  her  by  surprise,  and  she  will  not  have  any  good 
excuse  ready  and  so  she  will  give  in." 

"  But  wouldn't  she  want  you  to  go? "  Doris  was 
rather  confused  by  the  reasoning. 

"  I  suppose  she  thinks  I  am  young  to  begin  with  par 
ties.  But  it  isn't  a  regular  grown-up  affair.  And  I  am 


72          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

just  crazy  to  go.  I'm  so  glad  you  did  not  blurt  it  out, 
Doris.  I'll  give  you  a  dozen  kisses  for  being  so  sensible. 
Now  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep  this  minute." 

The  child  gave  a  soft  little  laugh,  and  a  moment  later 
Betty  was  "  cuddling  "  her  in  her  arms. 

The  result  of  Foster  Leverett's  cogitation  over  the  fire 
led  him  to  say  the  next  morning  to  his  son : 

"  Warren,  you  run  on.     I  have  a  little  errand  to  do." 

He  turned  in  another  direction  and  went  down  two 
squares.  There  was  Mrs.  Webb  sweeping  off  her  front 
porch  and  plank  path. 

"  Good-morning,"  stopping  and  leaning  on  her  broom 
as  he  halted. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Webb.  I  suppose  the  little 
girl  wasn't  much  trouble  yesterday.  She's  never  been  to 
school  before." 

"Trouble!  Bless  you,  no.  If  they  were  all  as  good 
as  that  I  should  feel  frightened,  I  really  should,  thinking 
they  wouldn't  live  long.  She's  a  bit  timid " 

"  She's  backward  in  some  things — figures,  for  instance. 
And  a  little  strange,  I  suppose.  So  if  you  would  be  kind 
of  easy-going  with  her  until  she  gets  settled  to  the 
work " 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  be  a  mite  afraid,  Mr.  Leverett. 
She's  smart  in  some  things,  but,  you  see,  she's  been  run 
on  different  lines,  and  we'll  get  straight  presently.  She's 
a  nice  obedient  little  thing,  and  I  do  like  to  see  children 
mind  at  the  first  bidding." 

"  Your  school  is  so  near  we  thought  we  would  try  't 
this  winter.  Yes,  I  think  all  will  go  right.  Good-morn 
ing,"  and  his  heart  lightened  at  the  thought  of  smoothing 
the  way  for  Doris. 


A   BIRTHDAY   PARTY.  73 

CHAPTER  VI. 

A     BIRTHDAY     PARTY. 

p\ORIS  sat  in  the  corner  studying.  Betty  had  gone 
*^  over  to  Mme.  Sheafe's  to  make  sure  she  had  her  lace 
stitch  just  right.  They  had  been  ironing  and  baking  all 
the  morning,  and  now  Mrs.  Leverett  had  attacked  her 
pile  of  shirts,  when  Mrs.  Morse  came  in.  She  had  her 
work  as  well.  Everybody  took  work,  for  neighborly 
calls  were  an  hour  or  two  long. 

Doris  had  been  presented  first,  a  kind  of  attention  paid 
to  her  because  she  was  from  across  the  ocean.  Every 
body's  health  had  been  inquired  about. 

"  I  came  over  on  a  real  errand,"  began  Mrs.  Morse 
presently.  "  And  you  mustn't  make  excuses.  My  Jane 
is  going  to  have  a  little  company  week  from  Thursday 
night.  She  will  be  seventeen,  and  we  are  going  to  have 
seventeen  young  people.  The  girls  will  come  in  the 
afternoon,  and  the  young  men  at  seven  to  tea.  Then 
they  will  have  a  little  merrymaking.  And  we  want 
Warren  and  Betty.  We  are  going  to  ask  those  we  want 
the  most  first,  and  if  so  happen  anything  serious  stands 
in  the  way,  we'll  take  the  next  row." 

"  You're  very  kind,  I'm  sure.  Warren  does  go  out 
among  young  people,  but  I  don't  know  about  Betty. 
She's  so  young." 

"  Well,  she  will  have  to  start  sometime.  My  mother 
was  married  at  sixteen,  but  that  is  too  young  to  begin 
life,  though  she  never  regretted  it,  and  she  had  a  baker's 
dozen  of  children." 

"  I'm  not  in  any  hurry  about  Betty.  She  is  the  last 
girl  home.  And  the  others  were  past  nineteen  when 
they  were  married." 


74          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  We  feel  there  is  no  hurry  about  Jane.  But  I've  had 
a  happy  life,  and  all  six  of  us  girls  were  married.  Not 
an  old  maid  among  us." 

"  Old  maids  do  come  in  handy  oftentimes,"  subjoined 
Mrs.  Leverett. 

Yet  in  those  days  every  mother  secretly,  often  openly, 
counted  on  her  girls  being  married.  The  single  woman 
had  no  such  meed  of  respect  paid  her  as  the  "  bachelor 
maids  "  of  to-day.  She  often  went  out  as  housekeeper 
in  a  widower's  family,  and  took  him  and  his  children  for 
the  sake  of  having  a  home  of  her  own.  Still,  there  were 
some  fine  unmarried  women. 

"  Yes,  they're  handy  in  sickness  and  times  when  work 
presses,  but  they  do  get  queer  and  opinionated  from  hav 
ing  their  own  way,  I  suppose." 

Alas!  what  would  the  single  woman,  snubbed  on 
every  side,  have  said  to  that ! 

Then  they  branched  into  a  chatty  discussion  about 
some  neighbors,  and  as  neither  was  an  ill-natured  woman, 
it  was  simply  gossip  and  not  scandal.  Mrs.  Morse  had  a 
new  recipe  for  making  soap  that  rendered  it  clearer  and 
lighter  than  the  old  one  and  made  better  soap,  she 
thought.  And  to-morrow  she  was  going  at  her  best 
candles,  so  as  to  be  sure  they  would  be  hard  and  nice 
for  the  company. 

"  But  you  haven't  said  about  Betty?  " 

"  I'll  have  to  think  it  over,"  was  the  rather  cautious 
reply. 

"  Elizabeth  Leverett!  I  feel  real  hurt  that  you  should 
hesitate,  when  our  children  have  grown  up  together !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Morse  rather  aggrieved. 

"  It's  only  about  putting  Betty  forward  so  much. 
Why,  you  know  I  don't  mind  her  running  in  and  out. 
She's  at  your  house  twice  as  often  as  Jane  is  here.  And 
when  girls  begin  to  go  to  parties  there's  no  telling  just 


A   BIRTHDAY   PARTY.  75 

where  to  draw  the  line.  It's  very  good  of  you  to  ask 
her.  Yes,  I  do  suppose  she  ought  to  go.  The  girls 
have  been  such  friends." 

"Jane  would  feel  dreadfully  disappointed.  She  said: 
'  Now,  mother,  you  run  over  to  the  Leveretts'  first  of  all, 
because  I  want  to  be  sure  of  Betty.' " 

"  Well — I'll  have  to  say  yes.  Next  Thursday.  There's 
nothing  to  prevent  that  I  know  of.  I  suppose  it  isn't  to 
be  a  grand  dress  affair,  for  I  hadn't  counted  on  making 
Betty  any  real  party  gown  this  winter?  I  don't  believe 
she's  done  growing.  Who  else  did  you  have  in  your 
mind,  if  it  isn't  a  secret?  " 

"  I'd  trust  it  to  you,  anyhow.  The  two  Stephens  girls 
and  Letty  Rowe,  Sally  Prentiss  and  Agnes  Green.  That 
makes  six,  with  Betty.  We  haven't  quite  decided  on 
the  others.  I  dare  say  some  of  the  girls  will  be  mad 
as  hornets  at  being  left  out,  but  there  can  be  only  nine. 
Of  course  we  do  not  count  Jane." 

These  were  all  very  nice  girls  of  well-to-do  families. 
Mrs.  Leverett  did  feel  a  little  proud  that  Betty  should 
head  the  list. 

"  They  are  all  to  bring  their  sewing.  I  had  half  a 
mind  to  put  on  a  quilt,  but  I  knew  there'd  be  a  talk  right 
away  about  Jane  marrying,  and  she  has  no  steady 
company.  I  tell  her  she  can't  have  until  she  is 
eighteen." 

"  That's  plenty  young  enough.  I  don't  suppose  there 
will  be  any  dancing?" 

"  They've  decided  on  proverbs  and  forfeits.  Cousin 
Morris  is  coming  round  to  help  the  boys  plan  it  out. 
Are  you  real  set  against  dancing,  Elizabeth?" 

"  Well — I'm  afraid  we  are  going  on  rather  fast,  and 
will  get  to  be  too  trifling.  I  can't  seem  to  make  up  my 
mind  just  what  is  right.  Foster  thinks  we  have  been  too 
strait-laced." 


76          A   LITTLE   GIRL    IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  I  danced  when  I  was  young,  and  I  don't  see  as  it 
hurt  me  any.  And  some  of  the  best  young  people  here 
about  are  going  to  a  dancing  class  this  winter.  Joseph 
has  promised  to  join  it,  and  his  father  said  he  was  old 
enough  to  decide  for  himself." 

Mrs.  Morse  had  finished  her  sewing  and  folded  it, 
quilting  her  needle  back  and  forth,  putting  her  thimble 
and  spool  of  cotton  inside  and  slipping  it  in  her  work 
bag.  Then  she  rose  and  wrapped  her  shawl  about  her 
and  tied  on  her  hood. 

"  Then  we  may  count  on  Warren  and  Betty?  Give 
them  my  love  and  Jane's,  and  say  we  shall  be  happy  to 
see  them  a  week  from  Thursday,  Betty  at  three  and  War 
ren  at  seven.  Come  over  soon,  do." 

When  she  had  closed  the  door  on  her  friend  Mrs. 
Leverett  glanced  over  to  the  corner  where  Doris  sat  with 
her  book.  She  had  half  a  mind  to  ask  her  not  to  men 
tion  the  call  to  Betty,  then  she  shrank  from  anything  so 
small. 

Doris  studied  and  she  sewed.  Then  Betty  came  in 
flushed  and  pretty. 

"  I  didn't  have  the  stitch  quite  right,"  she  said  to  her 
mother.  "  And  I  have  been  telling  her  about  Doris. 
She  wants  me  to  bring  her  over  some  afternoon.  She  is 
a  little  curious  to  see  what  kind  of  lace  Doris  makes. 
She  has  a  pillow — I  should  call  it  a  cushion." 

"  Doris  ought  to  learn  plain  sewing " 

"  Poor  little  mite!  How  your  cares  will  increase. 
Can  I  take  her  over  to  Mme.  Sheafe's  some  day?  " 

"  If  there  is  ever  any  time,"  with  a  sigh. 

"  Do  you  know  your  spelling? "  She  flew  over  to 
Doris  and  asked  a  question  with  her  eyes,  and  Doris  an 
swered  in  the  same  fashion,  though  she  had  a  fancy  that 
she  ought  not.  Betty  took  her  book  aiwi  found  that 
Doris  knew  all  but  two  words. 


A   BIRTHDAY    PARTY.  77 

"  If  I  could  only  do  sums  as  easily,"  she  said,  with  a 
plaintive  sound  in  her  voice. 

"  Oh,  you  will  learn.  You  can't  do  everything  in  a 
moment,  or  your  education  would  soon  be  finished." 

"What  is  Mme.  Sheafe  like?"  she  asked  with  some 
curiosity,  thinking  of  Aunt  Priscilla. 

"  She  is  a  very  splendid,  tall  old  lady.  She  ought  to 
be  a  queen.  And  she  was  quite  rich  at  one  time,  but  she 
isn't  now,  and  she  lives  in  a  little  one-story  cottage  that 
is  just  like — well,  full  of  curious  and  costly  things.  And 
now  she  gives  lessons  in  embroidery  and  lace  work,  and 
hemstitching  and  fine  sewing,  and  she  wears  the  most 
beautiful  gowns  and  laces  and  rings." 

"  Your  tongue  runs  like  a  mill  race,  Betty." 

"  I  think  everybody  in  Boston  is  tall,"  said  Doris  with 
quaint  consideration  that  made  both  mother  and  daugh 
ter  laugh. 

"  You  see,  there  is  plenty  of  room  in  the  country  to 
grow,"  explained  Betty. 

"  Can  I  do  some  sums?  " 

"  Oh,  yes." 

Plainly,  figures  were  a  delusion  and  a  snare  to  little 
Doris  Adams.  They  went  astray  so  easily,  they  would 
not  add  up  in  the  right  amounts.  Mrs.  Webb  did  not 
like  the  children  to  count  their  fingers,  though  some  of 
them  were  very  expert  about  it.  When  the  child  got  in 
among  the  sevens,  eights,  and  nines  she  was  wild  with 
helplessness. 

Supper  time  came.  This  was  Warren's  evening  for 
the  debating  society,  which  even  then  was  a  great  enter 
tainment  for  the  young  men.  There  would  be  plenty  of 
time  to  give  them  the  invitation.  Mrs.  Leverett  was 
sorry  she  had  consented  to  Betty's  going,  but  it  would 
have  made  ill  friends. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Hollis  Leverett,  the  eldest  son's 


78          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

wife,  came  up  to  spend  the  day,  with  her  two  younger 
children.  Doris  was  not  much  used  to  babies,  but  she 
liked  the  little  girl.  The  husband  came  up  after  supper 
and  took  them  home  in  a  carryall.  Doris  was  tired  and 
sleepy,  and  couldn't  stop  to  do  any  sums. 

Betty  was  folding  up  her  work,  and  Warren  yawning 
over  his  book,  when  Mrs.  Leverett  began  in  a  rather 
jerky  manner: 

"  Mrs.  Morse  was  in  and  invited  you  both  to  Jane's 
birthday  party  next  Thursday  night." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  Joe  in  the  street  to-day,  and  he  told  me," 
replied  Warren. 

"  I  said  I'd  see  about  you,  Betty.  You  are  quite  too 
young  to  begin  party-going." 

"  Why,  I  suppose  it's  just  a  girl's  frolic,"  said  her 
father,  wincing  suddenly.  "  They  can't  help  having 
birthdays.  Betty  will  be  begging  for  a  party  next." 

"  She  won't  get  it  this  year,"  subjoined  her  mother 
dryly.  "  And,  by  the  looks  of  things,  we  have  no  money 
to  throw  away." 

Betty  looked  a  little  startled.  She  had  wanted  so  to 
really  question  Doris,  but  it  did  not  seem  quite  the  thing 
to  do.  And  perhaps  she  was  not  to  go,  after  all.  She 
would  coax  her  father  and  Warren,  she  would  do  almost 
anything. 

Warren  settled  it  as  they  were  going  up  to  bed.  His 
mother  was  in  the  kitchen,  mixing  pancakes  for  break 
fast,  and  he  caught  Betty's  hand. 

"  Of  course  you  are  to  go,"  he  said.  "  Mother  doesn't 
believe  in  dealing  out  all  her  good  things  at  once.  I 
wish  you  had  something  pretty  to  wear.  It's  going  to 
be  quite  fine." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  sighed  Betty.  "  Jane  has  such  pretty 
gowns.  But  of  course  I  have  only  been  a  little  school 
girl  until  this  year,  and  somehow  it  is  very  hard  for  the 


A   BIRTHDAY    PARTY.  79 

mothers  to  think  their  girls  are  grown-up  in  any  respect 
except  that  of  work." 

Warren  sighed  as  well,  and  secretly  wished  he  had  a 
regular  salary,  and  could  do  what  he  liked  with  a  little 
money.  His  father  was  training  him  to  take  charge  of 
his  own  business  later  on.  He  gave  him  his  board  and 
clothing  and  half  a  dollar  a  week  for  spending  money. 
When  he  was  twenty-one  there  would  be  a  new  basis,  of 
course.  There  was  not  much  call  for  money  unless  one 
was  rich  enough  to  be  self-indulgent.  One  couldn't 
spend  five  cents  for  a  trolley  ride,  even  if  there  was  a 
downpour  of  rain.  And  as  Mr.  Leverett  had  never 
smoked,  he  had  routed  the  first  indications  of  any  such 
indulgence  on  the  part  of  his  son. 

The  amusements  were  still  rather  simple,  neighborly 
affairs.  The  boys  and  girls  "spent  an  evening"  with  each 
other  and  had  hickory  nuts,  cider,  and  crullers  that  had 
found  their  way  from  Holland  to  Boston  as  well  as  New 
York.  And  when  winter  set  in  fairly  there  was  sledding 
and  skating  and  no  end  of  jest  and  laughter.  Many  a 
decorous  love  affair  sprang  into  shy  existence,  taking  a 
year  or  two  for  the  young  man  to  be  brave  enough  to 
"  keep  company,"  if  there  were  no  objections  on  either 
side.  And  this  often  happened  to  be  a  walk  home  from 
church  and  an  hour's  sitting  by  the  family  fireside  taking 
part  in  the  general  conversation. 

To  be  sure,  there  was  the  theater.  Since  1798,  when 
the  Federal  Street  Theater  had  burned  down  and  been 
rebuilt  and  opened  with  a  rather  celebrated  actress  of 
that  period,  Mrs.  Jones,  theater-going  was  quite  the 
stylish  amusement  of  the  quality.  Mr.  Leverett  and  his 
wife  had  gone  to  the  old  establishment,  as  it  was  begin 
ning  to  be  called,  to  see  the  tragedy  of  "  Gustavus  Vasa," 
that  had  set  Boston  in  a  furore.  They  were  never  quite 
settled  on  the  point  of  the  sinfulness  of  the  pleasure.  In- 


8o         A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

deed,  Mr.  Leverett  evinced  symptoms  of  straying  away 
from  the  old  landmarks  of  faith.  He  had  even  gone  to 
the  preaching  of  that  reprehensible  young  man,  Mr. 
Hosea  Ballou,  who  had  opened  new  worlds  of  thought 
for  his  consideration. 

"  It's  a  beautiful  belief,"  Mrs.  Leverett  admitted,  "  but 
whether  you  can  quite  square  it  with  Bible  truth " 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  you  can  square  the  Westminster 
Catechism  either." 

"  If  you  must  doubt,  Foster,  do  be  careful  before  the 
children.  I'm  not  sure  but  the  old-fashioned  religion  is 
best.  It  made  good  men  and  women." 

"  Maybe  if  you  had  been  brought  up  a  Quaker  you 
wouldn't  have  seen  the  real  goodness  of  it.  Isn't  belief 
largely  a  matter  of  habit  and  education?  Mind,  I  don't 
say  religion.  That  is  really  the  man's  life,  his  daily 
endeavor." 

"  Well,  we  won't  argue."  She  felt  that  she  could  not, 
and  was  ashamed  that  she  was  not  more  strongly  forti 
fied.  "  And  do  be  careful  before  the  children." 

Her  husband  was  a  good,  honest,  upright  man — a 
steady  churchgoer  and  zealous  worker  in  many  ways. 
The  intangible  change  to  liberalness  puzzled  her.  If 
you  gave  up  one  point,  would  there  not  be  a  good  reason 
for  giving  up  another? 

Neither  could  she  quite  explain  why  she  should  feel 
more  anxious  about  Betty  than  she  had  felt  about  the 
girlhood  of  the  two  elder  daughters. 

Of  course  Warren  accepted  the  invitations  for  himself 
and  his  sister.  If  her  new  white  frock  was  only  done! 
She  had  outgrown  her  last  summer's  gowns.  There  was 
a  pretty  embroidered  India  muslin  that  her  sister  Electa 
had  given  her.  If  she  might  put  a  ruffle  around  the  bot 
tom  of  the  skirt. 

Aunt  Priscilla  came  over  and  had  her  cup  of  tea  so 


A    BIRTHDAY    PARTY.  81 

she  could  get  back  before  dark.  She  was  still  afraid  of 
the  damp  night  air.  Aunt  Priscilla  had  a  trunk  full  of 
pretty  things  she  had  worn  in  her  early  married  life.  If 
she,  Betty,  could  be  allowed  to  "  rummage  "  through  it! 

Saturday  was  magnificent  with  a  summer  softness  in 
the  air,  and  the  doors  could  be  left  open.  There  were 
sweeping  and  scrubbing  and  scouring  and  baking. 
Doris  was  very  anxious  to  help,  and  was  allowed  to  seed 
some  raisins.  It  wasn't  hard,  but  "  putterin'  "  work,  and 
took  a  good  deal  of  time. 

But  after  dinner  Uncle  Winthrop  came  in  his  chaise 
with  his  pretty  spirited  black  mare  Juno.  It  was  such  a 
nice  day,  and  he  had  to  go  up  to  the  North  End  on  some 
business.  There  wouldn't  be  many  such  days,  and  Doris 
might  like  a  ride. 

There  was  a  flash  of  delight  in  the  child's  eyes.  Betty 
went  to  help  her  get  ready. 

"  You  had  better  put  on  her  coat,  for  it's  cooler  rid 
ing,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  And  by  night  it  may  turn 
off  cold.  A  fall  day  like  this  is  hardly  to  be  trusted." 

"  But  it  is  good  while  it  lasts,"  said  Uncle  Win,  with 
his  soft  half-smile.  "  Elizabeth,  don't  pattern  after  Aunt 
Priscilla,  who  can't  enjoy  to-day  because  there  may  be 
a  storm  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  know  but  we  are  too  ready  to  cross  bridges 
before  we  come  to  them,"  she  admitted. 

"  A  beautiful  day  goes  to  my  inmost  heart.  I  want  to 
enjoy  every  moment  of  it." 

Doris  came  in  with  her  eager  eyes  aglow,  and  Betty 
followed  her  to  the  chaise,  and  said: 

"  Don't  run  away  with  her,  Uncle  Win;  I  can't  spare 
her." 

That  made  Doris  look  up  and  laugh,  she  was  so  happy. 

They  drove  around  into  Hanover  Street  and  then 
through  Wing's  Lane.  There  were  some  very  nice 


82         A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

lanes  and  alleys  then  that  felt  quite  as  dignified  as  the 
streets,  and  were  oftentimes  prettier.  He  was  going  to 
Dock  Square  to  get  a  little  business  errand  off  his  mind. 

"  You  won't  be  afraid  to  sit  here  alone?  I  will  fasten 
Juno  securely." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  and  she  amused  herself  glanc 
ing  about.  People  were  mostly  through  with  their  busi 
ness  Saturday  afternoon.  It  had  a  strange  aspect  to  her, 
however — it  was  so  different  from  the  town  across  the 
seas.  Some  of  the  streets  were  so  narrow  she  wondered 
how  the  horses  and  wagons  made  their  way,  and  was 
amazed  that  they  did  not  run  over  the  pedestrians,  who 
seemed  to  choose  the  middle  of  the  street  as  well.  Many 
of  the  houses  had  a  second  story  overhanging  the  first, 
which  made  the  streets  look  still  narrower. 

"  Now  we  will  go  around  and  see  the  queer  old 
things,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Win,  as  he  jumped  into  the 
chaise.  "  For  we  have  some  interesting  points  of  view. 
A  hundred  years  seems  a  good  while  to  us  new  people. 
And  already  streets  are  changing,  houses  are  being  torn 
down.  There  are  some  curious  things  you  will  like  to 
remember.  Did  Warren  tell  you  about  Paul  Revere?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  How  he  hung  the  lantern  out  of  the 
church  steeple." 

"  And  this  was  where  he  started  from.  More  than 
thirty  years  ago  that  was,  and  I  was  a  young  fellow  just 
arrived  at  man's  estate.  Still  it  was  a  splendid  time  to 
live  through.  We  will  have  some  talks  about  it  in  the 
years  to  come." 

"  Did  you  fight,  Uncle  Win?  " 

"  I  am  not  much  of  a  war  hero,  though  we  were  used 
for  the  defense  of  Boston.  You  are  too  young  to  under 
stand  all  the  struggle." 

Doris  studied  the  old  house.  It  was  three  stories, 
the  upper  windows  seeming  just  under  the  roof.  On  the 


A   BIRTHDAY    PARTY.  83 

ground  floor  there  was  a  store,  with  two  large  windows, 
where  Paul  Revere  had  carried  on  his  trade  of  silver 
smith  and  engraver  on  copper.  There  was  a  broken 
wire  netting  before  one  window,  and  quite  an  elaborate 
hallway  for  the  private  entrance,  as  many  people  lived 
over  their  shops. 

Long  afterward  Doris  Adams  was  to  be  interested  in 
a  poet  who  told  the  story  of  Paul  Revere's  ride  in  such 
vivid,  thrilling  words  that  he  was  placed  in  the  list  of 
heroes  that  the  world  can  never  forget.  But  it  had  not 
seemed  such  a  great  deed  then. 

Old  North  Square  had  many  curious  memories.  It 
had  been  a  very  desirable  place  of  residence,  though  it 
was  dropping  down  even  now.  There  were  quaint  ware 
houses  and  oddly  constructed  shops,  taverns  with  queer 
names  almost  washed  out  of  the  signs  by  the  storms  of 
many  winters.  There  were  the  "  Red  Lion  "  and  the 
"  King's  Arms  "  and  other  names  that  smacked  of  Lon 
don  and  had  not  been  overturned  in  the  Revolution. 
Here  had  stood  the  old  Second  Church  that  General 
Howe  had  caused  to  be  pulled  down  for  firewood  during 
the  siege  of  Boston,  the  spot  rendered  sacred  by  the  ser 
mon  of  many  a  celebrated  Mather.  And  here  had  re 
sided  Governor  Thomas  Hutchinson,  who  would  have 
been  sacrificed  to  the  fury  of  the  mob  for  his  Tory  pro 
clivities  during  the  Stamp  Act  riot  but  for  his  brother- 
in-law,  the  Rev.  Samuel  Mather,  who  faced  the  mob  and 
told  them  "  he  should  protect  the  Governor  with  his  life, 
even  if  their  sentiments  were  totally  dissimilar."  And 
when  he  came  to  open  court  the  next  morning  he  had 
neither  gown  nor  wig,  very  important  articles  in  that 
day.  For  the  wigs  had  long  curling  hair,  and  those  who 
wore  them  had  their  hair  cropped  close,  like  malefactors. 

And  here  was  the  still  stately  Frankland  House,  whose 
romance  was  to  interest  Doris  deeply  a  few  years  hence 


84          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

and  to  be  a  theme  for  poet  and  novelist.  But  now  she 
was  a  good  deal  amused  when  her  uncle  told  her  of  a 
Captain  Kemble  in  the  days  of  Puritan  rule  who,  after  a 
long  sea  voyage,  was  hurrying  up  the  Square,  when  his 
wife,  who  had  heard  the  vessel  was  sighted,  started  to  go 
to  the  landing.  As  they  met  the  captain  took  her  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her,  and  was  punished  for  breaking  the 
Sabbath  day  by  being  put  in  the  stocks. 

"  But  did  they  think  it  so  very  wrong?  "  Her  face 
grew  suddenly  grave. 

"  I  suppose  they  did.  They  had  some  queer  ideas  in 
those  days.  They  thought  all  exhibitions  of  affection 
out  of  place." 

Doris  looked  thoughtfully  out  to  the  harbor.  Perhaps 
that  was  the  reason  no  one  but  Betty  kissed  her. 

Then  they  drove  around  to  the  Green  Dragon.  This 
had  been  a  famous  inn,  where,  in  the  early  days,  the 
patriots  came  to  plan  and  confer  and  lay  their  far-reach 
ing  schemes.  It  was  said  they  went  from  here  to  the 
famous  Tea  Party.  Uncle  Winthrop  repeated  an  amus 
ing  rhyme: 

"  '  Rally,  Mohocks,  bring  out  your  axes, 
And  tell  King  George  we'll  pay  no  taxes 

On  his  foreign  tea. 

His  threats  are  vain,  he  need  not  think 
To  force  our  wives  and  girls  to  drink, 

His  vile  Bohea.'" 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  forced  to  drink  it,"  said  Doris, 
with  a  touch  of  repugnance  in  her  small  face. 

"  It  does  better  when  people  get  old  and  queer,"  said 
Uncle  Winthrop.  "  Then  they  want  some  comfort. 
They  smoke — at  least,  the  men  do — and  drink  tea.  Now 
you  can  see  the  veritable  Green  Dragon." 

The  house  was  low,  with  small,  oldtime  dormer  win 
dows.  The  dragon  hung  out  over  the  doorway.  He 


A   BIRTHDAY   PARTY.  85 

was  made  of  copper  painted  green,  his  two  hind  feet  rest 
ing  on  a  bar  that  swung  out  of  the  house,  his  wings 
spread  out  as  well  as  his  front  feet,  and  he  looked  as  if 
he  really  could  fly.  Out  of  his  mouth  darted  a  red 
tongue. 

"  He  is  dreadful !  "  exclaimed  Doris. 

"  Oh,  he  doesn't  look  as  fierce  now  as  I  have  seen  him. 
A  coat  of  paint  inspires  him  with  new  courage." 

"  Then  I  am  glad  they  have  not  painted  him  up  lately. 
Uncle  Win,  is  there  any  such  thing  as  a  real  dragon? 
Of  course  I've  read  about  St.  George  and  the  dragon," 
and  she  raised  her  eyes  with  a  perplexed  light  in  them. 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  to  relegate  dragons  to  the 
mythical  period,  or  the  early  ages.  I  have  never  seen 
one  any  nearer  than  that  old  fellow,  or  with  any  more 
life  in  him.  There  are  many  queer  signs  about,  and 
queer  corners,  but  I  think  now  we  will  go  over  to  Salem 
Street  and  look  at  some  of  the  pretty  old  houses,  and  then 
along  the  Mill  Pond.  Warren  took  you  up  Copp's 
Hill?" 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  You  see,  you  must  know  all  about  Boston.  It  will 
take  a  long  while.  Next  summer  we  will  have  drives 
around  here  and  there." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  delightful!"  and  she  smiled  with 
such  a  sweet  grace  that  he  began  to  count  on  it  himself. 

The  sun  was  going  over  westward  in  a  soft  haze  that 
wrapped  every  leafless  tree  and  seemed  to  caress  the 
swaying  vines  into  new  life.  The  honeysuckles  had  not 
dropped  all  their  leaves,  and  the  evergreens  were  taking 
on  their  winter  tint.  On  some  of  the  wide  lawns  groups 
of  children  were  playing,  and  their  voices  rang  out  full 
of  mirth  and  merriment.  Doris  half  wished  she  were 
with  them.  If  Betty  was  only  twelve  instead  of  sixteen! 

The  Mill  Pond  seemed  like  a  great  bay.     The  placid 


86          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

water  (there  was  no  wind  to  ruffle  it)  threw  up  marvelous 
reflections  and  glints  of  colors  from  the  sky  above,  and 
the  sun  beyond  that  was  now  a  globe  of  softened  flame, 
raying  out  lance-like  shapes  of  greater  distinctness 
and  then  melting  away  to  assume  some  new  form  or 
color. 

Doris  glanced  up  at  Uncle  Winthrop.  It  was  as  if  she 
felt  it  all  too  deeply  for  any  words.  He  liked  the  silence 
and  the  wordless  enjoyment  in  her  face. 

"  We  won't  go  home  just  yet,"  he  said.  They  were 
crossing  Cold  Lane  and  could  have  gone  down  Sud- 
bury  Street.  "  It  is  early  and  we  will  go  along  Green 
Lane  and  then  down  to  Cambridge  Street.  You  are  not 
tired?" 

"  Oh,  no.  I  think  I  never  should  be  tired  with  you, 
Uncle  Winthrop,"  she  returned  with  grave  sweetness, 
quite  unconscious  of  the  delicate  compliment  implied. 

What  was  there  about  this  little  girl  that  went  so  to 
his  heart? 

"  Uncle  Winthrop,"  she  began  presently,  while  a  soft 
pink  flush  crept  up  to  the  edge  of  her  hair,  "  I  heard  you 
and  Uncle  Leverett  talking  about  some  money  the  first 
night  you  were  over — wasn't  it  my  money?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  with  a  little  dryness  in  his  tone. 
What  made  her  think  about  money  just  now,  and  with 
that  almost  ethereal  face! 

"  Is  it  any  that  I  could  have — just  a  little  of  it?  "  hesi 
tatingly. 

"  Why?     Haven't  you  all  the  things  you  want?  " 

"I?  Oh,  yes.  I  shouldn't  know  what  to  wish  for 
unless  it  was  someone  to  talk  French  with,"  and  there 
was  a  sweet  sort  of  wistfulness  in  her  tone. 

"  I  think  I  can  supply  that  want.  Why  we  might 
have  been  talking  French  half  the  afternoon.  Do  you 
want  some  French  books?  Is  that  it?" 


A   BIRTHDAY    PARTY.  87 

"  No,  sir."  There  was  a  lingering  inflection  in  her 
tone  that  missed  satisfaction. 

"  Are  you  not  happy  at  Cousin  Leverett's?  " 

"  Happy?  Oh,  yes."  She  glanced  up  in  a  little  sur 
prise.  "  But  the  money  would  be  to  make  someone  else 
happy." 

"  Ah !  "     He  nodded  encouragingly. 

"  Betty  is  going  to  a  party." 

"  And  she  has  been  teasing  her  mother  for  some 
finery?" 

"  She  hasn't  any  pretty  gown.  I  thought  this  all  up 
myself,  Uncle  Win.  Miss  Arabella  has  such  quantities 
of  pretty  clothes,  and  they  are  being  saved  up  for  me. 
If  she  was  here  I  should  ask  her,  but  I  couldn't  get  it, 
you  know,  by  Thursday." 

She  gave  a  soft  laugh  at  the  impossibility,  as  if  it  was 
quite  ridiculous. 

"  And  you  want  it  for  her?  " 

"  She's  so  good  to  me,  Uncle  Win.  For  although  I 
know  some  things  quite  well,  there  are  others  in  which 
I  am  very  stupid.  A  little  girl  in  school  said  yesterday 
that  I  was  '  dreadful  dumb,  dumber  than  a  goose.' 
Aunt  Elizabeth  said  a  goose  was  so  dumb  that  if  it  came 
in  the  garden  through  a  hole  in  the  fence  it  never  could 
find  it  again  to  get  out." 

"  That  is  about  the  truth,"  laughed  Uncle  Win. 

"  I  couldn't  get  along  in  arithmetic  if  it  wasn't  for 
Betty.  She's  so  kind  and  tells  me  over  and  over  again. 
And  I  can't  do  anything  for  Aunt  Elizabeth,  because  I 
don't  know  how,  and  it  takes  most  of  my  time  to  study. 
But  if  I  could  give  Betty  a  gown — Miss  Arabella  went 
to  so  many  parties  when  she  was  young.  If  I  was  there 
I  know  she  would  consent  to  give  Betty  one  gown." 

Uncle  Winthrop  thought  of  a  trunk  full  of  pretty 
gowns  that  had  been  lying  away  many  a  long  year.  He 


88          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

couldn't  offer  any  of  those  to  Betty.  And  that  wouldn't 
be  a  gift  from  Doris. 

"  I  wonder  what  would  be  nice?  An  old  fellow  like 
me  would  not  know  about  a  party  gown." 

"  Warren  would.  He  and  Betty  talked  a  little  about 
it  last  night.  And  that  made  me  think — but  it  didn't 
come  into  my  mind  until  a  few  moments  ago  that  maybe 
there  would  be  enough  of  my  own  money  to  buy  one." 

Doris  glanced  at  him  with  such  wistful  entreaty  that 
he  felt  he  could  not  have  denied  her  a  much  greater 
thing.  He  remembered,  too,  that  Elizabeth  Leverett 
had  refused  to  take  any  compensation  for  Doris,  this 
winter  at  least,  and  he  had  been  thinking  how  to  make 
some  return. 

"  Yes,  I  will  see  Warren.  And  we  will  surprise 
Betty.  But  perhaps  her  mother  would  be  a  better 
judge." 

"  I  think  Aunt  Elizabeth  doesn't  quite  want  Betty  to 
go,  although  she  told  Mrs.  Morse  she  should." 

"Oh,  it's  at  the  Morses'?  Well,  they  are  very  nice 
people.  And  young  folks  do  go  to  parties.  Yes,  we  will 
see  about  the  gown." 

"  Uncle  Winthrop,  you  are  like  the  uncles  in  fairy 
stories.  I  had  such  a  beautiful  fairy  book  at  home,  but 
it  must  have  been  mislaid." 

She  put  her  white-mittened  hand  over  his  driving 
glove,  but  he  felt  the  soft  pressure  with  a  curious  thrill. 

They  went  through  Cambridge  Street  and  Hilier's 
Lane  and  there  they  were  at  home. 

"  It  has  been  lovely,"  she  said  with  a  happy  sigh  as  he 
lifted  her  out.  Then  she  reached  up  from  the  stepping- 
stone  and  kissed  him. 

"  It  isn't  Sunday,"  she  said  naively,  "  and  it  is  because 
you  are  so  good  to  me.  And  this  isn't  North  Square." 

He  laughed  and  gave  her  a  squeeze.     Cousin  Eliza- 


ABOUT    A    GOWN.  89 

beth  came  out  and  wished  him  a  pleasant  good-night  as 
he  drove  away. 

What  a  charming  little  child  she  was,  so  quaintly  sen 
sible,  and  with  a  simplicity  and  innocence  that  went  to 
one's  heart.  How  would  Recompense  Gardiner  regard 
a  little  girl  like  that?  He  would  have  her  over  some 
time  for  a  day  and  they  would  chatter  in  French.  Per 
haps  he  had  better  brush  up  his  French  a  little.  Then 
he  smiled,  remembering  she  had  called  herself  stupid,  and 
he  was  indignant  that  anyone  should  pronounce  her 
dumb. 

CHAPTER   VII. 

ABOUT    A     GOWN. 

C  ATURDAY  evening  was  already  quiet  at  the  Lev- 
eretts'.  Elizabeth  had  been  brought  up  to  regard 
it  as  the  beginning  of  the  Sabbath  instead  of  the  end  of 
the  week.  People  were  rather  shocked  then  when  you 
said  Sunday,  and  quite  forgot  the  beautiful  significance 
of  the  Lord's  Day.  Aunt  Priscilla  still  believed  in  the 
words  of  the  Creation:  that  the  evening  and  the  morn 
ing  were  the  first  day.  In  Elizabeth's  early  married  life 
she  had  kept  it  rigorously.  All  secular  employments  had 
been  put  by,  and  the  children  had  studied  and  recited  the 
catechism.  But  as  they  changed  into  men  and  women 
other  things  came  between.  Then  Mr.  Leverett  grew 
"  lax  "  and  strayed  off — after  other  gods,  she  thought  at 
first. 

He  softened  noticeably.  He  had  a  pitiful  side  for  the 
poor  and  all  those  in  trouble.  Elizabeth  declared  he 
used  no  judgment  or  discrimination. 

He  opened  the  old  Bible  and  put  his  finger  on  a  verse: 
''While  we  have  time  let  us  do  good  unto  all  men; 


90          A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

and  especially  unto  them  that  are  of  the  household  of 
faith." 

"  You  see,"  he  said  gravely,  "  the  household  of  faith 
isn't  put  first,  it  is  '  all  men.'  " 

She  was  reading  the  Bible,  not  as  a  duty  but  a  delight, 
skipping  about  for  the  sweetness  of  it.  And  she  found 
many  things  that  her  duty  reading  had  overlooked. 

The  children  did  not  repeat  the  catechism  any  more. 
She  had  been  considering  whether  it  was  best  to  set 
Doris  at  it;  but  Doris  knew  her  own  catechism,  and 
Cousin  Winthrop  was  a  Churchman,  so  perhaps  it 
wasn't  wise  to  meddle.  She  took  Doris  to  church 
with  her. 

Now,  on  Saturday  evening  work  was  put  away.  War 
ren  was  trying  to  read  "  Paradise  Lost."  He  had  parsed 
out  of  it  at  school.  Now  and  then  he  dropped  into  the 
very  heart  of  things,  but  he  had  not  a  poetical  tempera 
ment.  His  father  enjoyed  it  very  much,  and  was  quite 
a  reader  of  Milton's  prose  works.  Betty  had  strayed  off 
into  history.  Doris  sat  beside  Uncle  Leverett  with  her 
arms  on  his  knee,  and  looked  into  the  fire.  What  were 
they  doing  back  in  Old  Boston?  Aunt  Elizabeth  had 
already  condemned  the  fairy  stories  as  untrue,  and  there 
fore  falsehoods,  so  Doris  never  mentioned  them.  The 
child,  with  her  many  changes  and  gentle  nature,  had  de 
veloped  a  certain  tact  or  adaptiveness,  and  loved  pleas 
antness.  She  was  just  a  little  afraid  of  Aunt  Elizabeth's 
sharpness.  It  was  like  a  biting  wind.  She  always  made 
comparisons  in  her  mind,  and  saw  things  in  pictured  sig 
nificance. 

It  ran  over  many  things  now.  The  old  house  that 
had  been  patched  and  patched,  and  had  one  corner 
propped  up  from  outside.  The  barn  that  was  propped  up 
all  around  and  had  a  thatched  roof  that  suggested  an 
immense  haystack.  Old  Barby  crooning  songs  by  the 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  91 

kitchen  fire,  sweet  old  Miss  Arabella  with  her  great  high 
cap  and  her  snowy  little  curls.  Why  did  Aunt  Priscilla 
think  curls  wrong?  She  had  a  feeling  Aunt  Elizabeth 
did  not  quite  approve  of  hers,  but  Betty  said  the  Lord 
curled  them  in  the  beginning.  How  sweet  Miss  Ara 
bella  must  have  been  in  her  youth — yes,  she  must  surely 
have  been  young — when  she  wore  the  pretty  frocks  and 
went  to  the  king's  palace!  She  always  thought  of  her 
when  she  came  to  the  verses  in  the  Psalms  about  the 
king's  daughters  and  their  beautiful  attire.  If  Betty 
could  have  had  one  of  those! 

Her  heart  beat  with  unwonted  joy  as  she  remembered 
how  readily  Uncle  Winthrop  had  consented  to  her  wish. 
Oh,  if  the  frock  would  be  pretty!  And  if  Betty  would 
like  it!  She  stole  a  glance  or  two  at  her.  How  queer 
to  have  a  secret  from  Betty  that  concerned  her  so  much. 
Of  course  people  did  not  talk  about  clothes  on  Sunday, 
so  there  would  be  no  temptation  to  tell,  even  if  she  had 
a  desire,  which  she  should  not  have.  Monday  morning 
everything  would  be  in  a  hurry,  for  it  was  wash-day,  and 
she  would  have  to  go  over  her  lessons.  Uncle  Win  said 
the  gown  would  be  at  the  house  Monday  noon. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  little  one?  " 

Uncle  Leverett  put  his  hand  over  the  small  one  and 
looked  down  at  the  face,  which  grew  scarlet — or  was  it 
the  warmth  of  the  fire? 

She  laughed  with  a  sudden  embarrassment. 

"  I've  been  to  Old  Boston,"  she  said,  "  and  to  new 
Boston.  And  I  have  seen  such  sights  of  things." 

"  You  had  better  go  to  bed.  And  you  have  almost 
burned  up  your  face  sitting  so  close  by  the  fire.  It  is 
bad  for  the  eyes,  too,"  said  Aunt  Elizabeth. 

She  rose  with  ready  obedience. 

"  I  think  I'll  go  too,"  said  Betty  with  a  yawn.  The 
history  of  the  Reformation  was  dull  and  prosy. 


92          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

When  Doris  had  said  her  prayers,  and  was  climbing 
into  bed,  Betty  kissed  her  good-night. 

"  I'm  awfully  afraid  Uncle  Win  will  want  you  some 
day,"  she  said.  "  And  I  just  couldn't  let  you  go.  I  wish 
you  were  my  little  sister." 

There  was  a  service  in  the  morning  and  the  afternoon 
on  Sunday.  Uncle  Leverett  accompanied  them  in  the 
morning.  He  generally  went  out  in  the  evening,  and 
often  some  neighbor  came  in.  It  was  quite  a  social  time. 

When  Doris  came  home  from  school  Monday  noon 
Aunt  Elizabeth  handed  her  a  package  addressed  to 
"  Miss  Doris  Adams,  from  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams." 

"  It  is  a  new  frock,  I  know,"  cried  Betty  laughingly. 
"  And  it  is  very  choice.  I  can  tell  by  the  way  it  is 
wrapped.  Open  it  quick!  I'm  on  pins  and  needles." 

"  It  is  a  nice  cord ;  don't  cut  it,"  interposed  Aunt 
Elizabeth. 

Betty  picked  out  the  knot.  There  was  another  wrap 
per  inside,  and  this  had  on  it  "  Miss  Betty  Leverett. 
From  her  little  cousin,  Doris  Adams." 

Mr.  Leverett  came  at  Betty's  exclamation  and  looked 
over  her  shoulder. 

"  Are  you  sure  it  is  for  me?  Here  is  a  note  from 
Uncle  Win  that  is  for  you.  Oh!  oh!  Doris,  was  this 
what  you  did  Saturday?" 

A  soft  shimmering  China  silk  slipped  out  of  its  folds 
and  trailed  on  the  floor.  It  was  a  lovely  rather  dullish 
blue,  such  as  you  see  in  old  china,  and  sprays  of  flowers 
were  outlined  in  white.  Betty  stood  transfixed,  and  just 
glanced  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Oh,  do  you  like  it?  "  cried  Warren,  impatient  for  the 
verdict.  "  Uncle  Win  asked  me  to  go  out  and  do  an 
errand  with  him.  I  was  clear  amazed.  But  it's  Doris' 
gift,  and  bought  out  of  her  own  money.  We  looked 
over  ever  so  many  things.  He  said  you  wanted  some- 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  93 

thing  young,  not  a  grandmother  gown.  And  we  both 
settled  upon  this." 

Betty  let  it  fall  and  clasped  Doris  in  her  arms. 

"  Down  on  the  dirty  floor  as  if  it  was  nothing  worth 
while!"  began  Mrs.  Leverett,  while  her  husband  picked 
up  the  slippery  stuff  and  let  it  fall  again  until  she  took  it 
out  of  his  hands.  "  And  do  come  to  dinner!  There's  a 
potpie  made  of  the  cold  meat,  and  it  will  all  be  cold  to 
gether,  for  I  took  it  up  ever  so  long  ago.  And,  Betty, 
you  haven't  put  on  any  pickles.  And  get  that  quince 
sauce." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say."  There  were  tears  in 
Betty's  eyes  as  she  glanced  at  Doris. 

"  Well,  you  can  have  all  winter  to  say  it  in,"  rejoined 
her  mother  tartly.  "  And  your  father  won't  want  to 
spend  all  winter  waiting  for  his  dinner." 

They  had  finished  their  washing  early.  By  a  little 
after  ten  everything  was  on  the  line,  and  now  the  morn 
ings  had  grown  shorter,  although  you  could  piece  them 
out  with  candlelight.  Betty  had  suggested  the  cold 
meat  should  be  made  into  a  potpie,  and  now  Mrs.  Lev 
erett  half  wished  she  had  kept  to  the  usual  wash-day  din 
ner — cold  meat  and  warmed-over  vegetables.  She  felt 
undeniably  cross.  She  had  not  cordially  acquiesced  in 
Betty's  going  to  the  party.  The  best  gown  she  had  to 
wear  was  her  gray  cloth,  new  in  the  spring.  It  had 
been  let  down  in  the  skirt  and  trimmed  with  some  wine- 
colored  bands  Aunt  Priscilla  had  brought  her.  It  would 
be  a  good  discipline  for  Betty  to  wear  it.  When  she  saw 
the  other  young  girls  in  gayer  attire,  she  would  be  morti 
fied  if  she  had  any  pride.  Just  where  proper  pride  be 
gan  and  improper  pride  ended  she  was  not  quite  clear. 
Anyhow,  it  would  check  Betty's  party-going  this 
winter.  And  now  all  the  nice-laid  plans  had  come  to 
grief. 


94          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Doris  stood  still,  feeling  there  was  something  not  quite 
harmonious  in  the  atmosphere. 

"  You  were  just  royal  to  think  of  it,"  said  Warren, 
clasping  both  arms  around  Doris.  "  Uncle  Win  told 
me  about  it.  And  I  hope  you  like  our  choice.  Betty 
had  a  blue  and  white  cambric,  I  think  they  called 
it,  last  summer,  and  she  looked  so  nice  in  it,  but  it  didn't 
wash  well.  Silk  doesn't  have  to  be  washed.  Oh,  you 
haven't  read  your  letter." 

Uncle  Leverett  had  been  folding  and  rolling  the  silk 
and  laid  it  on  a  chair.  The  dinner  came  in  just  as  Doris 
had  read  two  or  three  lines  of  her  note. 

"  Aunt  Elizabeth," — when  there  was  a  little  lull, — 
"  Uncle  Winthrop  says  he  will  come  up  to  supper 
to-night." 

"  He  seems  very  devoted,  suddenly." 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  he  be  devoted  to  the  little 
stranger  in  his  charge,  if  she  isn't  exactly  within  his 
gates?  She  is  in  ours." 

A  flush  crept  up  in  Elizabeth  Leverett's  face.  She  did 
not  look  at  Doris,  but  she  felt  the  child's  eyes  were  upon 
her — wondering  eyes,  asking  the  meaning  of  this  unusual 
mood.  It  was  unreasonable  as  well.  Elizabeth  had  a 
kindly  heart,  and  she  knew  she  was  doing  not  only  her 
self  but  Doris  an  injustice.  She  checked  her  rising  dis 
pleasure. 

"  I  should  have  enjoyed  seeing  you  and  Uncle  Win 
shopping,"  she  said  rather  jocosely  to  Warren. 

Betty  glanced  up  at  that.  The  sky  was  clearing  and 
the  storm  blowing  over.  But,  oh,  she  had  her  pretty 
gown,  come  what  might! 

"  I  don't  believe  but  what  I  would  have  been  a  better 
judge  than  either  of  them,"  said  Uncle  Leverett. 

"  Uncle  Win  wasn't  really  any  judge  at  all,"  rejoined 
Warren  laughingly.  "  He  would  have  chosen  the  very 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  95 

best  there  was,  fine  enough  for  a  wedding  gown.  But 
I  knew  Betty  liked  blue,  and  that  girls  wanted  some 
thing  soft  and  delicate." 

"  You  couldn't  have  suited  me  any  better,"  acknowl 
edged  Betty,  giving  the  chair  that  held  her  treasure  an 
admiring  glance.  "  I  shall  have  to  study  all  the  after 
noon  to  know  what  to  say  to  Uncle  Win.  As  for 
Doris " 

Doris  was  smiling  now.  If  they  were  all  pleased, 
that  was  enough. 

"  I  hope  Uncle  Win  won't  let  you  spend  your  money 
this  way  very  often,"  said  Uncle  Leverett,  "  or  you  will 
have  nothing  left  to  buy  silk  gowns  for  yourself  when 
you  are  a  young  woman." 

"  Maybe  no  one  will  ever  ask  me  to  a  party,"  said 
Doris  simply. 

"  I  will  give  one  in  your  honor,"  declared  Warren. 
"  Let  me  see — in  seven  years  you  will  be  sixteen.  I  will 
save  up  a  little  money  every  year  after  I  get  my  freedom 
suit." 

"  Your  freedom  suit?  "  in  a  perplexed  manner. 

"  Yes — when  I  am  twenty-one.  That  will  be  next 
July." 

"  You  will  have  to  buy  her  a  silk  gown  as  well,"  said 
his  father  with  a  twinkle  of  humor  in  his  eye. 

"  Then  I  shall  strike  for  higher  wages." 

"  We  shall  have  a  new  President  and  we  will  see  what 
that  brings  about.  The  present  method  is  simply 
ruinous." 

The  dinner  was  uncommonly  good,  if  it  had  been  made 
of  cooked-over  meat.  And  the  pie  was  delicious.  Any 
woman  who  could  make  a  pie  like  that,  and  have  the 
custard  a  perfect  cream,  ought  to  be  the  happiest  woman 
alive. 

Mr.  Leverett  followed  his  wife  out  in  the  kitchen,  and 


96          A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

gave  the  door  a  push  with  his  foot.  But  the  three  young 
people  were  so  enthusiastic  about  the  new  gown,  now 
that  the  restraint  was  removed,  that  they  could  not  have 
listened. 

"  Mother,"  he  began,  "  don't  spoil  the  little  girl's  good 
time  and  her  pleasure  in  the  gift." 

"  Betty  did  not  need  a  silk  gown.  The  other  girls 
didn't  have  one  until  they  were  married.  If  I  had  con 
sidered  it  proper,  I  should  have  bought  it  myself." 

"  But  Winthrop  hadn't  the  heart  to  refuse  Doris." 

"  If  he  means  to  indulge  every  whim  and  fancy  she'll 
spend  everything  she  has  before  she  is  fairly  grown. 
She's  too  young  to  understand  and  she  has  been  brought 
up  so  far  in  an  irresponsible  fashion.  Generosity  is 
sometimes  foolishness." 

"  You  wouldn't  catch  Hollis'  little  boy  spending  his 
money  on  anyone,"  and  Sam's  grandfather  laughed. 
Sam  was  bright  and  shrewd,  smart  at  his  books  and 
good  at  a  barter.  He  had  a  little  money  out  at  interest 
already.  Mr.  Leverett  had  put  it  in  the  business,  and 
every  six  months  Sam  collected  his  interest  on  the  mark. 

"  Winthrop  isn't  as  slack  as  you  sometimes  think.  He 
could  calculate  compound  interest  to  a  fraction. 

"  I'm  glad  someone  has  a  little  forethought,"  was  the 
rather  tart  reply. 

"  Winthrop  isn't  as  slack  as  you  sometimes  think.  He 
doesn't  like  business,  but  he  has  a  good  head  for  it.  And 
he  will  look  out  for  Doris.  He  is  mightily  interested  in 
her  too.  But  if  you  must  scold  anyone,  save  it  for  him 
to-night,  and  let  Doris  be  happy  in  her  gift." 

"  Am  I  such  a  scold?  " 

"  You  are  my  dear  helpmeet."  He  put  his  arm  over 
her  shoulder  and  kissed  her.  People  were  not  very 
demonstrative  in  those  days,  and  their  affection  spoke 
oftener  in  deeds  than  words.  In  fact,  they  thought  the 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  97 

words  betrayed  a  strand  of  weakness.  "  There,  I  must 
be  off,"  he  added.  "  Come,  Warren,"  opening  the  door. 
"  Meade  will  think  we  have  had  a  turkey  dinner  and 
stayed  to  polish  the  bones." 

Betty  had  been  trying  the  effect  of  trailing  silk  and 
enjoying  her  brother's  admiration.  Now  she  folded  it 
again  decorously,  and  began  to  pile  up  the  cups  and 
plates,  half  afraid  to  venture  into  the  kitchen  lest  her 
dream  of  delight  should  be  overshadowed  by  a  cloud. 

Mrs.  Leverett  was  doing  a  sober  bit  of  thinking. 
How  much  happiness  ought  one  to  allow  one's  self  in 
this  vale  of  tears?  Something  she  had  read  last  night 
recurred  to  her — "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto 

the  least  of  these "  Done  what?  Fed  bodies  and 

warmed  and  clothed  them.  And  what  of  the  hungry 
longing  soul?  All  her  life  she  had  had  a  good  tender 
husband.  And  now,  when  he  had  strayed  from  the  faith 
a  little,  he  seemed  dearer  and  nearer  than  ever  before. 
God  had  given  her  a  great  deal  to  be  thankful  for.  Five 
fine  children  who  had  never  strayed  out  of  the  paths  of 
rectitude.  Of  course,  she  had  always  given  the  credit  to 
their  "  bringing  up."  And  here  was  a  little  girl  reared 
quite  differently,  sweet,  wholesome,  generous,  painstak 
ing,  and  grateful  for  every  little  favor. 

Astute  Betty  sent  Doris  in  as  an  advance  guard. 

"  You  may  take  the  dish  of  spoons,  and  I'll  follow  with 
the  cups  and  saucers." 

Aunt  Elizabeth  looked  up  and  half  smiled. 

"  You  and  Uncle  Win  have  been  very  foolish,"  she 
began,  but  her  tone  was  soft,  as  if  she  did  not  wholly  be 
lieve  what  she  was  saying.  "  I  shall  save  my  scolding 
for  him,  and  I  think  Betty  will  have  to  train  you  in 
figures  all  winter  long  to  half  repay  for  such  a  beautiful 
gift." 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Elizabeth,  I  thought  of  it,  you  know,"  she 


98          A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

cried  in  sweet  eagerness,  "  and  if  there  is  anything 
wrong " 

"  There  isn't  anything  wrong,  dear."  Mrs.  Leverett 
stooped  and  kissed  her.  "  I  don't  know  as  Betty  needed 
a  silk  gown,  for  many  a  girl  doesn't  have  one  until  she  is 
married.  I  shall  have  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  you  and 
Uncle  Win  hereafter." 

Betty  went  back  and  forth.  The  dishes  were  washed 
and  the  kitchen  set  to  rights,  while  the  bits  of  talk  flowed 
pleasantly. 

"  I  think  I  will  iron  this  afternoon,"  announced  Betty. 
"  I  see  some  of  the  clothes  are  dry.  Didn't  you  mean  to 
go  and  see  about  the  carpet,  mother?  " 

"  I  had  thought  of  it.  I  want  to  have  my  warp  dyed 
blue  and  orange,  and  some  of  the  rags  colored.  Mrs. 
Jett  does  it  so  well,  and  she's  so  needy  I  thought  I  would 
give  her  all  the  work.  Your  father  said  I  had  better. 
And  she  might  dip  over  that  brown  frock  of  yours.  The 
piece  of  new  can  go  with  it  so  it  will  all  be  alike." 

Betty  wanted  to  lift  up  her  heart  in  thanksgiving. 
The  dyeing  tub  was  her  utter  abomination — it  took  so 
long  for  the  stain  to  wear  out  of  your  hands. 

"  Well — if  you  like."  This  referred  to  the  ironing. 
"  I  don't  know  how  you'll  get  your  gown  done." 

"  I  might  run  over  and  get  some  patterns  from  Jane, 
if  I  get  through  in  time,"  suggested  Betty.  For  a  hor 
rible  fear  had  entered  her  mind  that  her  mother's  ac 
ceptance  of  the  fact  foreboded  some  delay  in  the  making. 

"  Don't  go  until  I  get  back." 

"  Oh,  no." 

Betty  took  down  the  clothes  and  folded  them.  They 
were  just  right  to  iron.  She  arranged  her  table,  and 
Doris  brought  her  books  and  sat  at  one  end. 

"  It  would  be  so  much  nicer  to  talk  about  the  party," 
she  said  gravely,  "  but  the  lessons  are  so  hard.  Oh, 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  99 

Betty,  do  you  think  I  shall  ever  be  smart  like  other  girls? 
I  feel  ashamed  sometimes.  My  figures  are  just  dread 
ful.  Robert  Lane  said  this  morning  they  looked  like 
hen  tracks.  His  are  beautiful.  And  he  is  only  seven 
years  old.  Oh,  dear!" 

"  Robbie  has  been  at  school  three  years.  Wait  until 
you  have  been  a  year!  " 

"  And  writing.  Oh,  Betty,  when  will  I  be  able  to 
write  a  letter  to  Miss  Arabella?  Now,  if  you  could  talk 
across  the  ocean !  " 

"  The  idea!  One  would  have  to  scream  pretty  loud, 
and  then  it  wouldn't  go  a  mile."  Betty  threw  her  head 
back  and  laughed. 

But  Doris  was  to  live  long  enough  to  talk  across  the 
ocean,  though  no  one  really  dreamed  of  it  then;  indeed, 
at  first  it  was  quite  ridiculed. 

"  It  is  a  nice  thing  to  know  a  good  deal,  but  it  is  awful 
hard  to  learn,"  said  the  little  girl  presently. 

"  Now,  it  seems  to  me  I  never  could  learn  French. 
And  when  you  rattle  it  off  in  the  way  you  do,  I  am  dumb 
founded." 

"  What  is  that,  Betty?  " 

Betty  flushed  and  laughed.  "  Surprised  or  anything 
like  that,"  she  returned. 

"  But,  you  see,  I  learned  to  talk  and  read  just  as  you 
do  English.  And  then  papa  being  English,  why  I  had 
both  languages.  It  was  very  easy." 

"  Patience  and  perseverance  will  make  this  easy." 

"  And  I  can't  knit  a  stocking  nor  make  a  shirt.  And 
I  haven't  pieced  a  bedspread  nor  worked  a  sampler. 
Mary  Green  has  a  beautiful  one,  with  a  border  of  straw 
berries  around  the  edge  and  forget-me-nots  in  the  cor 
ner.  Her  father  is  going  to  have  it  framed." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  chatter  so  much.  Begin  and  say 
some  tables." 


ioo        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  I  know  '  three  times  '  skipping  all  about.  But  when 
you  get  good  and  used  one  way  you  have  to  fly  around 
some  other  way.  I  can  say  '  four  times '  straight,  but  I 
have  to  think  a  little." 

"  Now  begin,"  said  Betty. 

They  seemed  to  run  races,  until  Doris'  cheeks  were 
like  roses  and  she  was  all  out  of  breath.  At  last  she  ac 
complished  the  baleful  four,  skipping  about. 

"  Mrs.  Webb  said  I  must  learn  four  and  five  this  week. 
And  five  is  easy  enough.  Now,  will  you  hear  me  do 
some  sums  in  addition?" 

She  added  aloud,  and  did  quite  well,  Betty  thought. 

"  When  I  can  make  nice  figures  and  do  sums  that  are 
worth  while,  I  am  to  have  a  book  to  put  them  in,  Mrs. 
Webb  says.  What  is  worth  while,  Betty?  " 

"  Why  it's — it's — a  thing  that  is  really  worth  doing 
well.  I  don't  know  everything,"  with  a  half-laughing 
sigh. 

Betty  had  all  her  pieces  ironed  before  the  lessons  were 
learned.  Doris  thought  ironing  was  easier.  It  finished 
up  of  itself,  and  there  was  nothing  to  come  after. 

"  Well — there  is  mending,"  suggested  Betty. 

"  I  know  how  to  darn.     I  shall  not  have  to  learn  that." 

"  And  you  darn  beautifully." 

While  Mrs.  Leverett  was  out  she  thought  she  would 
run  down  to  Aunt  Priscilla's  a  few  moments,  so  it  was 
rather  late  when  she  returned.  But  Betty  had  a  pan  of 
biscuits  rising  in  the  warmth  of  the  fire.  Then  she  was 
allowed  to  go  over  to  the  Morses'  and  tell  Jane  the  won 
derful  news.  Uncle  Winthrop  walked  up,  so  there 
would  be  no  trouble  about  the  horse;  then,  he  had  been 
writing  all  day,  and  needed  some  exercise. 

"  And  how  did  the  silk  suit?  "  he  asked  as  he  took  both 
of  the  child's  hands  in  his. 

"  It  was  just  beautiful.     Betty  was  delighted,  and  so 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  101 

surprised!  Uncle  Winthrop,  isn't  it  a  joyful  thing  to 
make  people  happy!  " 

"  Why — I  suppose  it  is,"  with  a  curious  hesitation  in 
his  voice,  as  he  glanced  down  into  the  shining  eyes.  He 
had  not  thought  much  of  making  anyone  happy  latterly. 
Indeed,  he  believed  he  had  laid  all  the  real  joys  of  life  in 
his  wife's  grave.  He  was  proud  of  his  son,  of  course, 
and  he  did  everything  for  his  advancement.  But  a 
simple  thing  like  this! 

"  We  have  been  studying  all  the  afternoon,  Betty  and 
I.  She  is  so  good  to  me.  And  to  think,  Uncle  Win,  she 
had  read  the  Bible  all  through  when  she  was  eight  years 
old,  and  made  a  shirt.  All  the  little  girls  make  one  for 
their  father.  And  he  gave  her  a  silver  half-dollar  with  a 
hole  in  it,  and  she  put  a  blue  ribbon  through  it  and 
means  to  keep  it  always.  But  I  haven't  any  father. 
And  I  began  to  read  the  Bible  on  Sunday.  It  will  take 
me  two  years,"  with  a  long  sigh.  "  I  used  to  read  the 
Psalms  to  Miss  Arabella,  and  there  was  a  portion  for 
every  day.  They  are  just  a  month  long,  when  the  month 
has  thirty  days." 

Her  chatter  was  so  pleasant.  Several  times  through 
the  day  her  soft  voice  had  haunted  him. 

Aunt  Elizabeth  came  in  with  her  big  kitchen  apron 
tied  over  her  best  afternoon  gown.  She  didn't  scold 
very  hard,  but  she  thought  Uncle  Win  might  better  be 
careful  of  the  small  fortune  coming  to  Doris,  since  she 
had  neither  father  nor  brother  to  augment  it.  And  they 
would  make  Betty  as  vain  as  a  peacock  in  all  her  finery. 

Betty  returned  laden  with  patterns  and  her  eyes  as 
bright  as  stars.  Jane  Morse  had  promised  to  come  over 
in  the  morning  and  help  her  cut  her  gown.  Jane  was  a 
very  "  handy "  girl,  and  prided  herself  on  knowing 
enough  about  "  mantua  making  "  to  get  her  living  if  she 
had  need.  At  that  period  nearly  every  family  did  the 


102        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

sewing  of  all  kinds  except  the  outside  wear  for  men. 
And  fashions  were  as  eagerly  sought  for  and  discussed 
among  the  younger  people  as  in  more  modern  times. 
The  old  Puritan  attire  was  still  in  vogue.  Not  so  many 
years  before  the  Revolution  the  Royalists'  fashions, 
both  English  and  French,  had  been  adopted.  But 
the  cocked  hats  and  scarlet  coats,  the  flowing  wigs 
and  embroidered  waistcoats,  had  been  swept  away  by 
the  Continental  style.  For  women,  high  heels  and 
high  caps  had  run  riot,  and  hoops  and  flowing  trains 
of  brocades  and  velvets  and  glistening  silks.  And  now 
the  wife  of  the  First  Consul  of  France  was  the  Empress 
Josephine,  and  the  Empire  style  had  swept  away  the 
pompadour  and  everything  else.  It  had  the  advantage 
of  being  more  simple,  though  quite  as  costly. 

Uncle  Win  and  Uncle  Leverett  talked  politics  after 
supper,  one  sitting  one  side  of  the  chimney  and  one  the 
other.  Doris  had  gone  over  to  Uncle  Winthrop's  side, 
and  she  wished  she  could  be  two  little  girls  just  for  the 
evening.  She  was  trying  very  hard  to  understand  what 
they  meant  by  the  Embargo  and  the  Non-Intercourse 
Act,  and  she  learned  they  were  going  to  have  a  new 
President  in  March.  She  did  not  think  politics  very  in 
teresting — she  liked  better  to  hear  about  the  war  that 
had  begun  more  than  thirty  years  ago.  Uncle  Leverett 
was  quite  sure  there  would  be  another  war  before  they 
were  done  with  it ;  that  all  the  old  questions  had  not  been 
fought  out,  and  there  could  be  no  lasting  peace  until 
they  were.  Did  men  like  war  so  much,  she  wondered? 

Betty  stole  around  to  Uncle  Win's  side  before  he  went 
away  and  thanked  him  again  for  the  interest  he  had 
taken  in  Doris'  desire.  Yes,  she  was  a  pretty  girl;  and 
how  much  cheer  there  seemed  around  the  Leverett  fire 
side  !  Warren  was  a  fine  young  fellow,  too,  older  by  two 
years  than  his  own  son.  He  missed  a  certain  cordial 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  103 

living  that  would  have  cheered  his  own  life.  When  his 
boy  came  home  he  would  have  it  different.  And  by  that 
time  he  would  have  decided  about  Doris. 

Betty  and  Jane  had  plenty  of  discussions  the  next 
morning.  Waists  were  short  and  full,  and  with  a  square 
neck  and  a  flat  band,  over  which  there  was  a  fall  of  lace, 
and  short,  puffed  sleeves  for  evening  wear. 

"  But  she  isn't  likely  to  go  to  another  party  this  winter, 
and  she  will  want  it  for  a  best  dress  all  next  summer," 
said  Mrs.  Leverett. 

"  Oh,  I  should  have  long  sleeves,  as  well,  and  just 
baste  them  in.  And  there's  so  much  silk  I  should  make 
a  fichu  to  tie  round  in  the  back  with  two  long  ends. 
You  can  make  that  any  time.  And  a  scant  ruffle  not 
more  than  an  inch  wide  when  it  is  finished.  A  ruffle 
round  the  skirt  about  two  inches  when  that  is  done. 
Letty  Rowe  has  three  ruffles  around  her  changeable  taf 
feta.  'Twas  made  for  her  cousin's  wedding,  and  it  is 
just  elegant." 

"  It  is  a  shame  to  waste  stuff  that  way,"  declared  Mrs. 
Leverett. 

"  But  the  frills  are  scant,  and  skirts  are  never  more 
than  two  and  a  half  yards  round.  Why,  last  summer 
mother  said  I  might  have  that  fine  sprigged  muslin  of 
hers  to  make  over,  and  I'm  sure  I  have  enough  for 
another  gown.  Mrs.  Leverett,  it  doesn't  take  half  as 
much  to  make  a  gown  for  us  as  it  did  for  our  mothers," 
said  Jane  with  arch  humor. 

"  She  had  better  save  the  piece  for  a  new  waist  and 
sleeves,"  declared  the  careful  mother. 

"  Well,  maybe  fichus  and  capes  will  go  out  before 
another  summer.  I  would  save  the  piece  now,  at  any 
rate,"  agreed  Jane. 

Jane  was  extremely  clever.  The  girls  had  many  amus 
ing  asides,  for  Mrs.  Leverett  was  ironing  in  the  kitchen. 


104        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

There  was  nothing  harmful  about  them,  but  they  were 
full  of  gay  promise.  Jane  cut  and  basted  and  fitted. 
There  were  the  bodice  and  the  sleeves.  "  You  can  easily 
slip  out  the  long  ones,"  she  whispered,  "  and  there  was 
the  skirt  with  the  lining  all  basted,  and  the  ruffles  cut  and 
sewed  together." 

"  You'll  have  a  nice  job  hemming  them.  I  should  do 
it  over  a  cord.  It  makes  them  set  out  so  much  better. 
And  if  you  get  in  the  drag  I'll  come  over  to-morrow. 
I'm  to  help  mother  with  the  nut  cake  this  afternoon.  It 
cuts  better  to  be  a  day  or  two  old.  We  made  the  fruit 
cake  a  fortnight  ago." 

"  How  good  you  are!  I  don't  know  what  I  should 
have  done  without  you !  " 

"  And  I  don't  know  how  Betty  will  ever  repay  you," 
said  Mrs.  Leverett. 

"I  know,"  returned  Jane  laughingly.  "I  have  planned 
to  get  every  stitch  out  of  her.  I  am  going  to  quilt  my 
'  Young  Man's  Ramble '  this  winter,  and  mother's  said 
I  might  ask  in  two  or  three  of  the  best  quilters  I  know — 
Betty  quilts  so  beautifully !  " 

The  "  Young  Man's  Ramble "  was  patchwork  of  a 
most  intricate  design,  in  which  it  seemed  that  one  might 
ramble  about  fruitlessly. 

"  I  am  glad  there  is  some  way  of  your  getting  even," 
said  the  mother  with  a  little  pride. 

Jane  took  dinner  with  them  and  then  ran  off  home. 
Warren  went  a  short  distance  with  her,  as  their  way  lay 
together. 

"  I  hope  you  didn't  say  anything  about  the  dancing," 
he  remarked.  "  Mother  is  rather  set  against  it.  But 
Sister  Electa  gives  dancing  parties,  and  Betty's  going  to 
Hartford  this  winter.  She  ought  to  know  how  to  dance." 

"  Trust  me  for  not  letting  the  cat  out  of  the  bag!  " 

Betty  sewed  and  sewed.     She  could  hardly  attend  to 


ABOUT   A   GOWN.  105 

Doris'  lessons  and  sums.  She  hemmed  the  ruffle  in  the 
evening,  and  hurried  with  her  work  the  next  morning. 
Everything  went  smoothly,  and  Mrs.  Leverett  was  more 
interested  than  she  would  have  believed.  And  she  was 
quite  ready  to  take  up  the  cudgel  for  her  daughter's 
silken  gown  when  Aunt  Priscilla  made  her  appearance. 
Of  course  she  would  find  fault. 

But  it  is  the  unexpected  that  happens.  Aunt  Pris 
cilla  was  in  an  extraordinary  mood.  Some  money  had 
been  paid  to  her  that  morning  that  she  had  considered 
lost  beyond  a  peradventure.  And  she  said,  "  It  was  a 
great  piece  of  foolishness,  and  Winthrop  Adams  at  his 
time  of  life  ought  to  have  had  more  sense,  but  what 
could  you  expect  of  a  man  always  browsing  over 
books!  And  if  she  had  thought  Betty  was  dying  for  a 
silk  frock,  she  had  two  laid  away  that  would  come  in 
handy  some  time.  She  hadn't  ever  quite  decided  who 
should  fall  heir  to  them,  but  so  many  of  the  girls  had 
grown  up  and  had  husbands  to  buy  fine  things  for  them, 
she  supposed  it  would  be  Betty." 

"What  is  going  round  the  neck  and  sleeves?"  she 
asked  presently. 

"  Mother  has  promised  to  lend  me  some  lace,"  an 
swered  Betty.  "  The  other  girls  had  a  borrowed  wear 
out  of  it." 

"  I'll  look  round  a  bit.  I  never  had  much  real  finery, 
but  husband  always  wanted  me  to  dress  well  when  we 
were  first  married.  We  went  out  a  good  deal  for  a  while, 
before  he  was  hurt.  I'll  see  what  I  have." 

And  the  next  morning  old  Polly  brought  over  a  box 
with  "  Missus'  best  compliments."  There  was  some 
beautiful  English  thread  lace  about  four  inches  wide,  just 
as  it  had  lain  away  for  years,  wrapped  in  soft  white  paper, 
with  a  cake  of  white  wax  to  keep  it  from  turning  unduly 
yellow. 


106        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Betty,  you  are  in  wonderful  luck,"  said  her  mother. 
"  Something  has  stirred  up  Aunt  Priscilla." 

Just  at  noon  that  eventful  Thursday  Mr.  Manning 
came  in  from  Salem  for  his  mother-in-law.  Mrs.  Man 
ning's  little  daughter  had  been  born  at  eight  that  morn 
ing,  and  Mary  wanted  her  mother  at  once.  She  had 
promised  to  go,  but  hardly  expected  the  call  so  soon. 

There  were  so  many  charges  to  give  Betty,  who  was 
to  keep  house  for  the  next  week.  Nothing  was  quite 
ready.  Mother  fashion,  she  had  counted  on  doing  this 
and  that  before  she  went;  and  if  Betty  couldn't  get  along 
she  must  ask  Aunt  Priscilla  to  come,  just  as  if  Betty  had 
not  kept  house  a  whole  week  last  summer.  There  was 
advice  to  father  and  to  Warren,  and  he  was  to  try  to 
bring  Betty  home  by  nine  o'clock  that  evening.  What 
Doris  would  do  in  the  afternoon,  she  couldn't  see. 

"  Go  off  with  an  easy  heart,  mother,"  said  Mr.  Lev- 
erett;  "  I  will  come  home  early  this  afternoon." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SINFUL    OR   NOT? 

should  have  seen  me  when  Jane  tied  a  white  sash 
about  my  waist.  Then  I  was  just  complete." 

"  But  you  looked  beautiful  before — like  a — well,  a 
queen  couldn't  have  looked  prettier.  Or  the  Empress 
Josephine." 

Betty  laughed  and  kissed  the  little  girl  whose  eyes 
were  still  full  of  admiration.  She  had  not  come  home 
until  ten,  and  found  her  father  waiting  at  the  fireside,  but 
Doris  was  snuggled  up  in  bed  and  soundly  asleep.  She 
had  risen  at  her  father's  call,  made  the  breakfast,  and  sent 
the  men  off  in  time;  then  heard  the  lesson  Doris  wasn't 


SINFUL   OR   NOT?  107 

quite  sure  of,  and  sent  her  to  school ;  and  now  the  dinner 
was  cleared  away  and  they  were  sitting  by  the  fire. 

The  Empress  Josephine  was  in  her  glory  then,  one  of 
the  notables  of  Europe. 

"  And  Mrs.  Morse  said  such  lace  as  that  would  be  ten 
dollars  a  yard  now.  Think  of  that!  Thirty  dollars! 
But  didn't  you  get  lonesome  waiting  for  father?  " 

"  He  came  just  half  an  hour  afterward.  And,  oh,  we 
had  such  a  grand,  funny  time  getting  supper.  It  was 
as  good  as  a  party.  I  poured  the  tea.  And  he  called 
me  Miss  Adams,  like  a  grown  lady.  And,  then,  what  do 
you  think?  We  played  fox  and  geese!  And  do  you 
know  I  thought  the  geese  were  dumb  to  let  the  fox  get 
them  all.  And  then  he  took  the  geese  and  soon  penned 
my  fox  in  a  corner.  Then  he  told  me  about  the  fox  and 
the  goose  and  the  measure  of  corn  and  the  man  crossing 
the  stream.  It  was  just  delightful.  I  wanted  to  stay  up 
until  you  came  home,  but  I  did  get  so  sleepy.  And  was 
the  party  splendid?  I  don't  think  anyone  could  have 
been  prettier  than  you!  " 

"  Sally  Prentiss  had  a  pink  silk  frock,  and  the  ruffles 
were  fringed  out,  which  made  them  fluffy.  It  was  beau 
tiful  !  Oh,  I  should  have  felt  just  awful  in  my  gray  cloth 
or  my  blue  winter  frock.  And  I  owe  most  of  the  delight 
to  you,  little  Doris.  I've  been  thinking — sometime  I 
will  work  you  a  beautiful  white  frock,  fine  India  muslin." 

"  And  what  did  they  do?  " 

"  We  didn't  sew  much,"  Betty  laughed.  "  We  talked 
and  talked.  I  knew  all  but  one  girl,  and  we  were  soon 
acquainted.  Jane  didn't  have  a  thing  to  do,  of  course. 
Then  the  gentlemen  came  and  we  went  out  to  supper. 
The  table  was  like  a  picture.  There  was  cold  turkey  and 
cold  ham  and  cold  baked  pork.  They  were  all  delicious. 
And  bread  and  biscuits  and  puffy  little  cakes  quite  new. 
Mrs.  Morse's  cousin  brought  the  recipe,  and  she  has 


io8        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

promised  it  to  mother.  And  there  were  jams  and  jellies 
and  ever  so  many  things,  and  then  all  the  plates  and 
meats  were  sent  away,  and  the  birthday  cake  with  seven 
teen  tiny  candles  was  lighted  up.  And  cake  of  every 
kind,  and  whipped  cream  and  nuts  and  candies.  Then 
we  went  back  to  the  parlor  and  played  "  proverbs  "  and 
"  What  is  my  thought  like?  "  and  then  black  Joe  came 
with  his  fiddle.  First  they  danced  the  minuet.  It  was 
beautiful.  And  then  they  had  what  is  called  cotillions. 
I  believe  that  is  the  new  fashionable  dance.  It  takes 
eight  people,  but  you  can  have  two  or  three  at  the  same 
time.  They  dance  in  figures.  And,  oh,  it  is  just  delight 
ful  !  I  do  wonder  if  it  is  wrong?  " 

"  What  would  make  it  wrong?  "  asked  Doris  gravely. 

"  That's  what  puzzles  me.  A  great  many  people  think 
it  right  and  send  their  children  to  dancing-school.  On 
all  great  occasions  there  seems  to  be  dancing.  It  is 
stepping  and  floating  around  gracefully.  You  think  of 
swallows  flying  and  flowers  swinging  and  grass  waving 
in  the  summer  sun." 

"  But  if  there  is  so  much  of  it  in  the  world,  and  if  God 
made  the  world  gay  and  glad  and  rejoicing  and  full  of 
butterflies  and  birds  and  ever  so  many  things  that  don't 
do  any  real  work  but  just  have  a  lovely  time " 

Doris'  wide-open  eyes  questioned  her  companion. 

"  They  haven't  any  souls.  I  don't  know."  Betty  shook 
her  head.  "  Let's  ask  father  about  it  to-night.  When 
you  are  little  you  play  tag  and  puss-in-the-corner  and 
other  things,  and  run  about  full  of  fun.  Dancing  is  more 
orderly  and  refined.  And  there's  the  delicious  music! 
All  the  young  men  were  so  nice  and  polite, — so  kind  of 
elegant, — and  it  makes  you  feel  of  greater  consequence. 
I  don't  mean  vain,  only  as  if  it  was  worth  while  to  be 
have  prettily.  It's  like  the  parlor  and  the  kitchen.  You 
don't  take  your  washing  and  scrubbing  and  scouring  in 


SINFUL   OR   NOT?  109 

the  parlor,  though  that  work  is  all  necessary.  So  there 
are  two  sides  to  life.  And  my  side  just  now  is  getting 
supper,  while  your  side  is  studying  tables.  Oh,  I  do 
wonder  if  you  will  ever  get  to  know  them !  " 

Doris  sighed.  She  would  so  much  rather  talk  about 
the  party. 

"  And  your  frock  was — pretty?  "  she  ventured  timidly. 

"  All  the  girls  thought  it  lovely.  And  I  told  them  it 
was  a  gift  from  my  little  cousin,  who  came  from  old  Bos 
ton — and  they  were  so  interested  in  you.  They  thought 
Doris  a  beautiful  name,  but  Sally  said  the  family  name 
ought  to  be  grander  to  go  with  it.  But  Adams  is  a  fine 
old  name,  too — the  first  name  that  was  ever  given. 
There  was  only  one  man  then,  and  when  there  came  to 
be  such  hosts  of  them  they  tacked  the  '  s '  on  to  make  it 
a  noun  of  multitude." 

"  Did  they  really?  Some  of  the  children  are  learning 
about  nouns.  Oh,  dear,  how  much  there  is  to  learn!" 
said  the  little  girl  with  a  sigh. 

Betty  went  at  her  supper.  People  ate  three  good 
stout  meals  in  those  days.  It  made  a  deal  of  cooking. 
It  made  a  stout  race  of  people  as  well,  and  one  heard 
very  little  about  nerves  and  indigestion.  Betty  was  get 
ting  to  be  quite  a  practiced  cook. 

Mr.  Leverett  took  a  good  deal  of  interest  hearing 
about  the  party.  Warren  had  enjoyed  it  mightily.  And 
then  they  besieged  him  for  an  opinion  on  the  question 
of  dancing.  Warren  presented  his  petition  that  he  might 
be  allowed  to  join  a  class  of  young  men  that  was  being 
formed.  There  were  only  a  few  vacancies. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  have  a  very  decided  opinion  about 
it,"  he  returned  slowly.  "  Times  have  changed  a  good 
deal  since  I  was  young,  and  amusements  have  changed 
with  them.  A  hundred  or  so  years  ago  life  was  very 
strenuous,  and  prejudices  of  people  very  strong.  Yet 


no        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

the  young  people  skated  and  had  out-of-door  games, 
and  indoor  plays  that  we  consider  very  rough  now. 
And  you  remember  that  our  ancestors  were  opposed  to 
nearly  everything  their  oppressors  did.  Their  own  lives 
were  too  serious  to  indulge  in  much  pleasuring.  The 
pioneers  of  a  nation  rarely  do.  But  we  have  come  to 
an  era  of  more  leisure  as  to  social  life.  Whether  it  will 
make  us  as  strong  as  a  nation  remains  to  be  seen." 

"  That  doesn't  answer  my  question,"  said  Warren 
respectfully. 

"  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  wait  until  you  are  of  age, 
mostly  for  your  mother's  sake.  I  think  she  dreads  leav 
ing  the  old  ways.  And  then  Betty  will  have  no  excuse," 
with  a  shrewd  little  smile. 

Warren  looked  disappointed. 

"  But  I  danced  last  night,"  said  Betty.  "  And  we  used 
to  dance  last  winter  at  school.  Two  or  three  of  the  girls 
were  good  enough  to  show  us  the  new  steps.  And  one 
of  the  amusing  things  was  a  draw  cotillion.  The  girls 
drew  out  a  slip  of  paper  that  had  a  young  man's  name 
on  it,  and  then  she  had  to  pass  it  over  to  him,  and  he 
danced  with  her.  And  who  do  you  think  I  had?" 
triumphantly. 

"  I  do  not  know  the  young  men  who  were  there," 
said  her  father. 

"  I  hope  it  was  the  very  nicest  and  best,"  exclaimed 
Doris. 

"  It  just  was !  Jane's  cousin,  Morris  Winslow.  And 
he  was  quite  the  leader  in  everything,  almost  as  if  it  was 
his  party.  And  he  is  one  of  the  real  quality,  you  know. 
I  was  almost  afraid  to  dance  with  him,  but  he  was  so 
nice  and  told  me  what  to  do  every  time,  so  I  did  not  make 
any  serious  blunders.  But  it  is  a  pleasure  to  feel  that 
you  know  just  how." 

"  There  will  be  years  for  you  to  learn,"  said  her  father. 


SINFUL   OR   NOT?  in 

"  Meanwhile  the  ghost  of  old  Miles  Standish  may  come 
back." 

"  What  would  he  do?  "  asked  Doris,  big-eyed. 

Warren  laughed.  "  What  he  did  in  the  flesh  was  this: 
The  Royalists — you  see,  they  were  not  all  Puritans  that 
came  over — were  going  to  keep  an  oldtime  festival  at 
a  place  called  Merry  Mount.  They  erected  a  May  pole 
and  were  going  to  dance  around  it." 

"  That  is  what  they  do  at  home.  And  they  have  a 
merry  time.  Miss  Arabella  took  me.  And  didn't  Miles 
Standish  like  it?  " 

"  I  guess  not.  He  sent  a  force  of  men  to  tear  it  down, 
and  marched  Morton  and  his  party  into  Plymouth,  where 
they  were  severely  reprimanded — fined  as  well,  some 
people  say." 

"  We  do  not  rule  our  neighbors  quite  as  strictly  now. 
But  one  must  admire  those  stanch  old  fellows,  after 
all." 

"  I  am  glad  the  world  has  grown  wider,"  said  Warren. 
But  he  wished  its  wideness  had  taken  in  his  mother,  who 
had  a  great  fear  of  the  evils  lying  in  wait  for  unwary 
youth.  Still  he  would  not  go  against  her  wishes  while 
he  was  yet  under  age.  Young  people  were  considered 
children  in  their  subjection  to  their  parents  until  this 
period.  And  girls  who  stayed  at  home  were  often  in  sub 
jection  all  their  lives.  There  were  men  who  ruled  their 
families  with  a  sort  of  iron  sway,  but  Mr.  Leverett  had 
always  been  considered  rather  easy. 

Doris  begged  to  come  out  and  dry  the  dishes,  but 
they  said  tables  instead  of  talking  of  the  seductive  party. 
Mr.  Leverett  had  to  go  out  for  an  hour.  Betty  sat  down 
and  took  up  her  knitting.  She  felt  rather  tired  and 
sleepy,  for  she  had  gone  on  with  the  party  the  night 
before,  after  she  was  in  bed.  A  modern  girl  would  be 
just  getting  ready  to  go  to  her  party  at  ten.  But  then 


fi2        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

she  would  not  have  to  get  up  at  half-past  five  the  next 
morning,  make  a  fire,  and  cook  breakfast.  Suddenly 
Betty  found  herself  nodding. 

"  Put  up  your  book,  Doris.  I'll  mix  the  cakes  and 
we  will  go  to  bed.  You  can  dream  on  the  lessons." 

The  party  had  demoralized  Doris  as  well. 

Among  the  real  quality  young  men  came  to  inquire 
after  the  welfare  of  the  ladies  the  next  morning,  or  even 
ing  at  the  latest.  But  people  in  the  middle  classes  were 
occupied  with  their  employments,  which  were  the  main 
things  of  their  lives. 

And  though  the  lines  were  strongly  drawn  and  the 
"  quality  "  were  aristocratic,  there  were  pleasant  grada 
tions,  marked  by  a  fine  breeding  on  the  one  side  and 
a  sense  of  fitness  on  the  other,  that  met  when  there  was 
occasion,  and  mingled  and  fused  agreeably,  then  returned 
each  to  his  proper  sphere.  The  Morses  were  well  con 
nected  and  had  some  quite  high-up  relatives.  For  that 
matter,  so  were  the  Leveretts,  but  Foster  Leverett 
was  not  ambitions  for  wealth  or  social  distinction, 
and  Mrs.  Leverett  clung  to  the  safety  of  the  good  old 
ways. 

Jane  ran  over  in  the  morning  with  a  basket  of  some 
of  the  choicer  kinds  of  cake,  and  some  nuts,  raisins,  and 
mottoes  for  the  little  girl.  There  were  so  many  nice 
things  she  was  dying  to  tell  Betty, — compliments, — and 
some  from  Cousin  Morris.  And  didn't  she  think  every 
thing  went  off  nicely? 

"  It  was  splendid,  all  through,"  cried  Betty  enthusi 
astically.  "  I  would  like  to  go  to  a  party — well,  I  sup 
pose  every  week  would  be  too  often,  but  at  least  twice 
a  month." 

"  The  Chauncey  Winslows  are  going  to  have  a  party 
Thanksgiving  night.  They  are  Morris'  cousins  and  not 
mine,  but  I've  been  there;  and  Morris  said  last  night 


SINFUL   OR  NOT?  113 

I  should  have  an  invitation.  It  will  be  just  splendid,  I 
know." 

"  But  you  are  seventeen.  And  mother  thinks  I  am 
only  a  little  girl,"  returned  Betty. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  didn't  go  scarcely  anywhere  last  winter. 
Being  grown  up  is  ever  so  much  nicer.  But  it  will  come 
for  you." 

"  Electa  wants  me  to  visit  her  this  winter.  The  as 
sembly  is  to  meet,  you  know,  and  she  has  plenty  of  good 
times,  although  she  has  three  children.  I  do  hope  I  can 
go!  And  I  have  that  lovely  frock." 

"  That  would  be  delightful.  I  wish  I  had  a  sister  mar 
ried  and  living  away  somewhere — New  York,  for  in 
stance.  They  have  such  fine  times.  Oh,  dear!  how  do 
you  get  along  alone?  " 

"  It  keeps  me  pretty  busy." 

Jane  had  come  out  in  the  kitchen,  so  Betty  could  go 
on  with  her  dinner  preparations. 

"  Mother  thinks  of  keeping  Cousin  Nabby  all  winter. 
She  likes  Boston  so,  and  it's  lonely  up  in  New  Hampshire 
on  the  farm.  That  will  ease  me  up  wonderfully." 

"  If  I  go  away  mother  will  have  to  get  someone." 

"  Although  they  do  not  think  we  young  people  are  of 
much  account,"  laughed  Jane.  "  Give  your  little  girl 
a  good  big  chunk  of  party  cake  and  run  over  when  you 
can." 

"  But  I  can't  now." 

"  Then  I  will  have  to  do  the  visiting." 

Dinner  was  ready  on  the  mark,  and  Mr.  Leverett 
praised  it.  Doris  came  home  in  high  feather.  She  had 
not  missed  a  word,  and  she  had  done  all  her  sums. 

"  I  think  I  am  growing  smarter,"  she  announced  with 
a  kind  of  grave  exultation.  "  Don't  you  think  Aunt 
Elizabeth  will  teach  me  how  to  knit  when  she  comes 
back?  " 


u4        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Not  to  have  knit  a  pair  of  stockings  was  considered 
rather  disgraceful  for  a  little  girl. 

Aunt  Priscilla  came  over  early  Saturday  afternoon. 
She  found  the  house  in  very  good  order,  and  she  glanced 
sharply  about,  too.  They  had  not  heard  from  Mary  yet, 
but  the  elder  lady  said  no  news  was  good  news.  Then 
she  insisted  on  looking  over  the  clothes  for  the  Monday's 
wash  and  mending  up  the  rents.  Tuesday  she  would 
come  in  and  darn  the  stockings.  When  she  was  nine 
years  old  it  was  her  business  to  do  all  the  family  darn 
ing,  looking  askance  at  Doris. 

"  Now,  if  you  had  been  an  only  child,  Aunt  Priscilla, 
and  had  no  parents,  what  a  small  amount  of  darning 
would  have  fallen  to  your  share! "  said  Betty. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  would  have  been  put  out  some 
where  and  trained  to  make  myself  useful.  And  if  I'd 
had  any  money  that  would  have  been  on  interest,  so  that 
I  could  have  some  security  against  want  in  my  old  age. 
Anyway,  it  isn't  likely  I  should  have  been  allowed  to 
fritter  away  my  time." 

Betty  wondered  how  Aunt  Priscilla  could  content  her 
self  with  doing  such  a  very  little  now!  Not  but  what 
she  had  earned  a  rest.  And  Foster  Leverett,  who  man 
aged  some  of  her  business,  said  sub  rosa  that  she  was 
not  spending  all  her  income. 

"  You  can't  come  up  to  your  mother  making  tea,"  she 
said  at  the  supper  table.  "  Your  mother  makes  the  best 
cup  of  tea  I  ever  tasted." 

Taking  it  altogether  they  did  get  on  passably  well 
without  Mrs.  Leverett  during  the  ten  days.  She  brought 
little  James,  six  years  of  age,  who  couldn't  go  the  long 
distance  to  school  in  cold  weather  with  the  two  older 
children,  and  so  was  treated  to  a  visit  at  grandmother's. 

Mary  was  doing  well  and  had  a  sweet  little  girl,  as 
good  as  a  kitten.  Mr.  Manning's  Aunt  Comfort  had 


SINFUL  OR   NOT?  115 

come  to  stay  a  spell  through  the  winter.  And  now  there 
was  getting  ready  for  Thanksgiving.  There  was  no 
time  to  make  mince  pies,  but  then  Mrs.  Leverett  didn't 
care  so  much  for  them  early  in  the  season.  Hollis' 
family  would  come  up,  they  would  ask  Aunt  Priscilla, 
and  maybe  Cousin  Winthrop  would  join  them.  So  they 
were  busy  as  possible. 

Little  James  took  a  great  liking  to  his  shy  cousin 
Doris,  and  helped  her  say  tables  and  spell.  He  had  been 
at  school  all  summer  and  was  very  bright  and  quick. 

"  But,  Uncle  Foster,"  she  declared,  "  the  children  in 
America  are  much  smarter  than  English  children.  They 
understand  everything  so  easily." 

Then  came  the  first  big  snowstorm  of  the  season. 
There  had  been  two  or  three  little  dashes  and  squalls. 
It  began  at  noon  and  snowed  all  night.  The  sky  was 
so  white  in  the  early  morning  you  could  hardly  tell  where 
the  snow  line  ended  and  where  it  began;  but  by  and  by 
there  came  a  bluish,  silvery  streak  that  parted  it  like  a 
band,  and  presently  a  pale  sun  ventured  forth,  hanging  on 
the  edge  of  yellowish  clouds  and  growing  stronger,  until 
about  noon  it  flooded  everything  with  gold,  and  the 
heavens  were  one  broad  sheet  of  blue  magnificence. 

Doris  did  not  go  to  school  in  the  morning.  There 
were  no  broken  paths,  and  boys  and  men  were  busy 
shoveling  out  or  tracking  down. 

"  It  is  a  heavy  snow  for  so  early  in  the  season,"  de 
clared  Uncle  Leverett.  "  We  are  not  likely  to  see  bare 
ground  in  a  long  while." 

Doris  thought  it  wonderful.  And  when  Uncle  Win 
throp  came  the  next  day  and  took  them  out  in  a  big 
sleigh  with  a  span  of  horses,  her  heart  beat  with  un 
wonted  enjoyment.  But  the  familiarity  little  James 
evinced  with  it  quite  startled  her. 

Thanksgiving  Day  was  a  great  festival  even  then,  and 


n6        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

had  been  for  a  long  while.  Christmas  was  held  of  little 
account.  New  Year's  Day  had  a  greater  social  aspect. 
Commencement,  election,  and  training  days  were  in  high 
favor,  and  every  good  housewife  baked  election  cake, 
and  every  voter  felt  entitled  to  a  half-holiday  at  least. 
Then  there  was  an  annual  fast  day,  with  churchgoing 
and  solemnity  quite  different  from  its  modern  suc 
cessor. 

The  Hollis  Leveretts,  two  grown  people  and  four  chil 
dren,  came  up  early.  Sam,  or  little  Sam  as  he  was  often 
called  to  distinguish  him  from  his  two  uncles,  was  a  nice 
well-grown  and  well-looking  boy  of  about  ten.  Mrs. 
Hollis  had  lost  her  next  child,  a  boy  also,  and  Bessy  was 
just  beyond  six.  Charles  and  the  baby  completed  the 
group. 

Uncle  Leverett  made  a  fire  in  the  best  room  early  in 
the  morning.  Doris  was  a  little  curious  to  see  it 
with  the  shutters  open.  It  was  a  large  room,  with  a 
"  boughten  "  ingrain  carpet,  stiff  chairs,  two  great  square 
ottomans,  a  big  sofa,  and  some  curious  old  paintings, 
besides  a  number  of  framed  silhouettes  of  different  mem 
bers  of  the  family. 

The  most  splendid  thing  of  all  was  the  great  roaring 
fire  in  the  wide  chimney.  The  high  shelf  was  adorned 
with  two  pitchers  in  curious  glittering  bronze,  with  odd 
designs  in  blue  and  white  raised  from  the  surface.  The 
children  brought  their  stools  and  sat  around  the  fire. 

Adjoining  this  was  the  spare  room,  the  guest  chamber 
par  excellence.  Sometimes  the  old  house  had  been  full, 
when  there  were  young  people  coming  and  going,  and 
relatives  from  distant  places  visiting.  Electa  and  Mary 
had  both  married  young,  though  in  the  early  years  of 
her  married  life  Electa  had  made  long  visits  home.  But 
her  husband  had  prospered  in  business  and  gone  into 
public  life,  and  she  entertained  a  good  deal,  and  the  jour- 


SINFUL   OR    NOT?  117 

ney  home  was  long  and  tedious.  Mary  was  much  nearer, 
but  she  had  a  little  family  and  many  cares. 

Sam  took  the  leadership  of  the  children.  He  had  seen 
Doris  for  a  few  minutes  on  several  occasions  and  had  not 
a  very  exalted  opinion  of  a  girl  who  could  only  cipher 
in  addition,  while  he  was  over  in  interest  and  tare  and 
tret.  To  be  sure  he  could  neither  read  nor  talk  French. 
This  year  he  had  gone  to  the  Latin  school.  He  hadn't 
a  very  high  opinion  of  Latin,  and  he  did  not  want  to  go 
to  college.  He  was  going  to  be  a  shipping  merchant, 
and  own  vessels  to  go  all  over  the  world  and  bring  car 
goes  back  to  Boston.  'He  meant  to  be  a  rich  man  and 
own  a  fine  big  house  like  the  Hancock  House. 

Doris  thought  it  would  be  very  wonderful  for  a  little 
boy  to  get  rich. 

"  And  you  might  be  lord  mayor  of  Boston,"  she  said, 
thinking  of  the  renowned  Whittington. 

"  We  don't  have  lord  mayors  nor  lord  anything  now, 
except  occasionally  a  French  or  English  nobleman. 
And  we  don't  care  much  for  them,"  said  the  uncompro 
mising  young  republican.  "  I  should  like  to  be  Gov 
ernor  or  perhaps  President,  but  I  shouldn't  want  to  waste 
my  time  on  anything  else." 

Grandfather  Leverett  smiled  over  these  boyish  am 
bitions,  but  he  wished  Sam's  heart  was  not  quite  so  set 
on  making  money. 

There  were  so  few  grown  people  that  by  bringing  in 
one  of  the  kitchen  tables  and  placing  it  alongside  they 
could  make  room  for  all.  Betty  was  to  be  at  the  end, 
flanked  on  both  sides  by  the  children ;  Mrs.  Hollis  at  the 
other  end.  There  was  a  savory  fragrance  of  turkey, 
sauces,  and  vegetables,  and  the  table  seemed  literally 
piled  up  with  good  things. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  sit  down  Uncle  Winthrop 
came  in  for  a  moment  to  express  his  regrets  again  at 


n8        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

not  being  able  to  make  one  of  the  family  circle.  Doris 
thought  he  looked  very  handsome  in  his  best  clothes,  his 
elegant  brocaded  waistcoat,  and  fine  double-ruffled  shirt- 
front.  He  wore  his  hair  brushed  back  and  tied  in  a 
queue  and  slightly  powdered. 

He  was  to  go  to  a  grand  dinner  with  some  of  the  city 
officials,  a  gathering  that  was  not  exactly  to  his  taste, 
but  one  he  could  not  well  decline.  And  when  Doris 
glanced  up  with  such  eager  admiration  and  approval,  his 
heart  warmed  tenderly  toward  her,  as  it  recalled  other 
appreciative  eyes  that  had  long  ago  closed  for  the  last 
time. 

What  a  dinner  it  was!  Sam  studied  hard  and  played 
hard  in  the  brief  while  he  could  devote  to  play,  and  he 
ate  accordingly.  Doris  was  filled  with  amazement.  No 
wonder  he  was  round  and  rosy. 

"  Doesn't  that  child  ever  eat  any  more?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Hollis.  "  No  wonder  she  is  so  slim  and  peaked.  I'd 
give  her  some  gentian,  mother,  or  anything  that  would 
start  her  up  a  little." 

Doris  turned  scarlet. 

"  She's  always  well,"  answered  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  She 
hasn't  had  a  sick  day  since  she  came  here.  I  think 
she  hasn't  much  color  naturally,  and  her  skin  is  very 
fair." 

"  I  do  hope  she  will  stay  well.  I've  had  such  excellent 
luck  with  my  children,  who  certainly  do  give  their  keep 
ing  credit.  I  think  she's  been  housed  too  much.  I'm 
afraid  she  won't  stand  the  cold  winter  very  well." 

"  You  can't  always  go  by  looks,"  commented  Aunt 
Priscilla. 

After  the  dinner  was  cleared  away  and  the  dishes 
washed  (all  the  grown  people  helped  and  made  short 
work  of  it),  the  kitchen  was  straightened,  the  chairs  being 
put  over  in  the  corner,  and  the  children  who  were  large 


SINFUL   OR   NOT?  119 

enough  allowed  a  game  of  blindman's  buff,  Uncle  Lev- 
erett  watching  to  see  that  no  untoward  accidents  hap 
pened,  and  presently  allowing  himself  to  be  caught.  And, 
oh,  what  a  scattering  and  laughing  there  was  then!  His 
arms  were  so  large  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  sweep 
everybody  into  them,  but,  strange  to  relate,  no  one  was 
caught  so  easily.  They  dodged  and  tiptoed  about  and 
gave  little  half-giggles  and  thrilled  with  success.  He 
did  catch  Sam  presently,  and  the  boy  did  not  enjoy  it  a 
bit.  Not  that  he  minded  being  blindfolded,  but  he 
should  have  liked  to  boast  that  grandfather  could  not 
catch  him. 

Sam  could  see  under  the  blinder  just  the  least  bit. 
Doris  had  on  red  morocco  boots,  and  they  were  barely 
up  to  her  slim  ankles.  They  were  getting  small,  so 
Aunt  Elizabeth  thought  she  might  take  a  little  good  out 
of  them,  as  they  were  by  far  too  light  for  school  wear. 
Sam  was  sure  he  could  tell  by  them,  and  he  resolved  to 
capture  her.  But  every  time  he  came  near  grandfather 
rushed  before  her,  and  he  didn't  want  to  catch  back  right 
away,  neither  did  he  want  Bessy,  whose  half-shriek  be 
trayed  her  whereabouts. 

Mrs.  Leverett  opened  the  door. 

"  I  think  you  have  made  noise  enough,"  she  said. 
People  believed  in  the  old  adage  then  that  children 
should  "  be  seen  and  not  heard,"  and  that  indoors  was 
no  place  for  a  racket.  "  Aunt  Priscilla  thinks  she  must 
go,  but  she  wants  you  to  sing  a  little." 

This  was  for  Mr.  Leverett,  but  Sam  had  a  very  nice 
boy's  voice  and  felt  proud  enough  when  he  lifted  it  up  in 
church. 

"  I'll  come,  grandmother,"  he  said  with  some  elation, 
as  if  he  alone  had  been  asked.  And  as  he  tore  off  the 
blinder  he  put  his  head  down  close  to  Doris,  and  whis 
pered: 


izo        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  It  was  mean  of  you  to  hide  behind  grandfather  every 
time,  and  he  didn't  play  fair  a  bit." 

Bat  having  a  peep  at  the  red  shoes  as  they  went  danc 
ing  round  was  fair  enough! 

Hollis  Leverett  sang  in  the  choir.  They  had  come  to 
this  innovation,  though  they  drew  the  line  at  instru 
mental  music.  He  had  a  really  fine  tenor  voice,  Mr. 
Leverett  sang  in  a  sort  of  natural,  untrained  tone,  very 
sweet.  Mrs.  Hollis  couldn't  sing  at  all,  but  she  was  very 
proud  to  have  the  children  take  after  their  father.  There 
were  times  when  Aunt  Priscilla  sang  for  herself,  but  her 
voice  had  grown  rather  quivering  and  uncertain.  So 
Betty  and  her  mother  had  to  do  their  best  to  keep  from 
being  drowned  out.  But  the  old  hymns  were  touching, 
with  here  and  there  a  line  of  rare  sweetness. 

Hollis  Leverett  was  going  to  take  Aunt  Priscilla  home 
and  then  return  for  the  others.  Sam  insisted  upon  going 
with  them,  so  grandfather  roasted  some  corn  for  Bessy 
and  Doris.  They  had  not  the  high  art  of  popping  it 
then  and  turning  it  inside  out,  although  now  and  then  a 
grain  achieved  such  a  success  all  by  itself.  Bessy 
thought  Doris  rather  queer  and  not  very  smart. 

The  two  little  ones  were  bundled  up  and  made  ready, 
and  the  sleigh  came  back  with  a  jingle  for  warning. 
Mrs.  Hollis  took  her  baby  in  her  arms,  grandfather  car 
ried  out  little  Foster,  and  they  were  all  packed  in  snugly 
and  covered  up  almost  head  and  ears  with  the  great  fur 
robes,  while  little  Sam  shouted  out  the  last  good-night. 

Mrs.  Leverett  straightened  things  in  the  best  room, 
until  all  the  company  air  had  gone  out  of  it.  Doris  felt 
the  difference  and  was  glad  to  come  out  to  her  own  chim 
ney  corner.  Then  Betty  spread  the  table  and  they  had 
a  light  supper,  for,  what  with  dinner  being  a  little  late 
and  very  hearty,  no  one  was  hungry.  But  they  sipped 
their  tea  and  talked  over  the  children  and  how  finely 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  121 

Sam  was  getting  along  in  his  studies,  and  Mrs.  Leverett 
brought  up  the  Manning  children,  for  much  as  she  loved 
Hollis,  her  daughter  Mary's  children  came  in  for  a  share 
of  grandmotherly  affection.  And  in  her  heart  she  felt 
that  little  James  was  quite  as  good  as  anybody. 

Warren  had  promised  to  spend  the  evening  with  some 
young  friends.  Betty  wished  she  were  a  year  older  and 
could  have  the  privilege  of  inviting  in  schoolmates  and 
their  brothers,  and  that  she  might  have  fire  in  the  parlor 
on  special  occasions.  But,  to  compensate,  some  of  the 
neighbors  dropped  in.  Doris  and  James  played  fox 
and  geese  until  they  were  sleepy.  James  had  a  little 
cot  in  the  corner  of  grandmother's  room. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT. 

,  what  a  lovely  white  world  it  was!  The  low,  sedgy 
places  were  frozen  over  and  covered  with  snow;  the 
edges  of  the  bay,  Charles  River,  and  Mystic  River  were 
assuming  their  winter  garments  as  well.  And  when,  just 
a  week  after,  another  snowstorm  came,  there  seemed  a 
multitude  of  white  peaks  out  in  the  harbor,  and  the  hills 
were  transformed  into  veritable  snow-capped  mountains. 
Winter  had  set  in  with  a  rigor  unknown  to-day.  But 
people  did  not  seem  to  mind  it.  Even  the  children  had 
a  good  time  sledding  and  snowballing  and  building 
snow  forts  and  fighting  battles.  There  were  mighty 
struggles  between  the  North  Enders  and  the  South 
Enders.  Louisburg  was  retaken,  1775  was  re-enacted, 
and  Paul  Revere  again  swung  his  lantern  and  roused  his 
party  to  arms,  and  snowballs  whitened  instead  of  darken 
ing  the  air  with  the  smoke  of  firearms.  Deeds  of  mighty 
prowess  were  done  on  both  sides. 


122        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

But  the  boys  had  the  best  of  it  surely.  The  girls  had 
too  much  to  do.  They  were  soon  too  large  for  romping 
and  playing.  There  were  stockings  to  knit  and  to 
darn.  There  were  long  overseams  in  sheets;  there  was 
no  end  of  shirt-making  for  the  men.  They  put  the 
hems  in  their  own  frocks  and  aprons,  they  stitched  gus 
sets  and  bands  and  seams.  People  were  still  spinning 
and  weaving,  though  the  mills  that  were  to  lead  the  revo 
lution  in  industries  had  come  in.  The  Embargo  was 
taxing  the  ingenuity  of  brains  as  well  as  hands,  and  as 
more  of  everything  was  needed  for  the  increase  of  popu 
lation,  new  methods  were  invented  to  shorten  processes 
that  were  to  make  New  England  the  manufacturing 
center  of  the  new  world. 

When  the  children  had  nothing  else  to  do  there  was 
always  a  bag  of  carpet  rags  handy.  There  were  braided 
rugs  that  were  quite  marvels  of  taste,  and  even  the  hit-or- 
miss  ones  were  not  bad. 

Still  they  were  allowed  out  after  supper  on  moonlight 
nights  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  they  had  grand  good 
times.  The  father  or  elder  brothers  went  along  to  see 
that  no  harm  happened.  Fort  Hill  was  one  of  the 
favorite  coasting  places,  and  parties  of  a  larger  growth 
thronged  here.  But  Beacon  Hill  had  not  been  shorn  of 
all  its  glory. 

Uncle  Winthrop  came  over  one  day  and  took  the  chil 
dren  and  Betty  to  see  the  battle  at  Fort  Hill.  The  Brit 
ish  had  intrenched  themselves  with  forts  and  breastworks 
and  had  their  colors  flying.  It  really  had  been  hard 
work  to  enlist  men  or  boys  in  this  army.  No  one  likes 
to  go  into  a  fight  with  the  foregone  conclusion  that  he  is 
to  be  beaten.  But  they  were  to  do  their  best,  and 
they  did  it.  The  elders  went  out  to  see  the  fun.  The 
rebels  directed  all  their  energies  to  the  capture  of  one 
fort  instead  of  opening  fire  all  along  the  line,  and  by 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  123 

dusk  they  had  succeeded  in  demolishing  that,  when  the 
troops  on  both  sides  were  summoned  home  to  supper 
and  to  comfortable  beds,  an  innovation  not  laid  down 
in  the  rules  of  warfare. 

Little  James  had  been  fired  with  military  ardor. 
Cousin  Sam  was  the  leader  of  one  detachment  of  the 
rebel  forces.  Catch  him  anywhere  but  on  the  winning 
side! 

Doris  had  been  much  interested  as  well,  and  that  even 
ing  Uncle  Leverett  tolcl  them  stories  about  Boston  thirty 
years  before.  He  was  a  young  man  of  three-and-twenty 
when  Paul  Revere  swung  his  lantern  to  give  the  alarm. 
He  could  only  touch  lightly  upon  what  had  been  such 
solemn  earnest  to  the  men  of  that  time,  the  women  as 
well. 

"  I'm  going  to  be  a  soldier,"  declared  James,  with  all 
the  fervor  of  his  youthful  years.  "  But  you  can't  ever 
be,  Doris." 

"  No,"  answered  Doris  softly,  squeezing  Uncle  Lev- 
erett's  hand  in  both  of  hers.  "  But  there  isn't  any  war." 

"  Yes  there  is — over  in  France  and  England,  and  ever 
so  many  places.  My  father  was  reading  about  it.  And 
if  there  wasn't  any  war  here,  couldn't  we  go  and  fight 
for  some  other  country?  " 

"  I  hope  there  will  never  be  war  in  your  time,  Jimmie, 
boy,"  said  his  grandmother.  "  And  it  is  bedtime  for 
little  people." 

"Why  does  it  come  bedtime  so  soon?"  in  a  deeply 
aggrieved  tone.  "  When  I  am  a  big  man  I  am  going  to 
sit  up  clear  till  morning.  And  I'll  tell  my  grandchildren 
all  night  long  how  I  fought  in  the  wars." 

"  That  is  looking  a  long  way  ahead,"  returned  grand 
father. 

Besides  the  lessons,  Doris  was  writing  a  letter  to  Miss 
Arabella.  That  lady  would  have  warmly  welcomed  any 


i24        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD    BOSTON. 

little  scrawl  in  Doris'  own  hand.  Uncle  Winthrop  had 
acknowledged  her  safe  arrival  in  good  health,  and  en 
larged  somewhat  on  the  pleasant  home  she  had  found 
with  her  relatives.  Betty  had  overlooked  the  little  girl's 
letter  and  made  numerous  corrections,  and  she  had 
copied  and  thought  of  some  new  things  and  copied  it 
over  again.  She  had  added  a  little  French  verse  also. 

"Dear  me!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Elizabeth,  ''when  will 
the  child  ever  learn  anything  useful!  There  doesn't 
seem  any  time.  The  idea  of  a  girl  of  ten  years  old  never 
having  knit  a  stocking!  And  she  will  be  full  that  and 
more!  " 

"  But  everybody  doesn't  knit,"  said  Betty. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can  buy  those  flimsy  French  things 
that  do  not  give  you  any  wear.  And  presently  we  may 
not  be  able  to  buy  either  French  or  English.  She  is  not 
going  to  be  so  rich  either.  It's  nonsense  to  think  of  that 
marshy  land  ever  being  valuable.  Whatever  possessed 
anyone  to  buy  it,  I  can't  see!  And  if  Doris  was  to  be 
a  queen  I  think  she  ought  to  know  something  useful." 

"  I  do  not  suppose  I  shall  ever  need  to  spin,"  Betty  said 
rather  archly. 

Mrs.  Leverett  had  insisted  that  all  her  girls  should 
learn  to  spin  both  wool  and  flax.  Betty  had  rebelled  a 
little  two  years  ago,  but  she  had  learned  nevertheless. 

"  And  there  was  a  time  when  a  premium  was  paid  to 
the  most  skillful  spinner.  Your  grandmother,  Betty, 
was  among  those  who  spun  on  the  Common.  The 
women  used  to  go  out  there  with  their  wheels.  And 
there  were  spinning  schools.  The  better  class  had  to 
pay,  but  a  certain  number  of  poor  women  were  taught  on 
condition  that  they  would  teach  their  children  at  home. 
And  it  is  not  a  hundred  years  ago  either.  There  was 
no  cloth  to  be  had,  and  Manufactory  House  was. 
established." 


WHAT    WINTER    BROUGHT.  125 

Betty  had  heard  the  story  of  spinning  on  the  Com 
mons,  for  her  own  grandmother  had  told  it.  But  she 
had  an  idea  that  the  world  would  go  on  rather  than  retro 
grade.  For  now  they  were  turning  out  cotton  cloth  and 
printing  calico  and  making  canvas  and  duck,  and  it  was 
the  boast  of  the  famous  Constitution  that  everything  be 
sides  her  armament  was  made  in  Massachusetts. 

Uncle  Winthrop  thought  Doris'  letter  was  quite  a 
masterpiece  for  a  little  girl.  At  least,  that  was  what  he 
said.  I  think  he  was  a  good  deal  more  interested  in  that 
than  in  the  sampler  she  had  begun.  And  he  agreed 
privately  with  Betty  that  "  useless  "  sometimes  was  mis 
spelled  into  "  useful." 

Another  letter  created  quite  a  consternation.  This 
was  from  Hartford.  Mrs.  King  wrote  that  a  friend,  a 
Mr.  Eastman,  was  going  from  Springfield  to  Boston  on 
some  business,  and  on  his  return  he  would  bring  Betty 
home  with  him.  His  wife  was  going  on  to  Hartford  a 
few  days  later  and  would  be  very  pleased  to  have  Betty's 
company.  She  did  not  know  when  another  chance 
would  offer,  for  not  many  people  were  journeying  about 
in  the  winter. 

Betty  was  to  bring  her  nicest  gowns,  and  she  needed  a 
good  thick  pelisse  and  heavy  woolen  frock  for  outside 
wear.  The  new  hats  were  very  large,  and  young  girls 
were  wearing  white  or  cream  beaver.  Some  very  hand 
some  ones  had  come  from  New  York  recently.  There 
was  a  big  bow  on  the  top,  and  two  feathers  if  you  could 
afford  it,  and  ribbon  of  the  same  width  tied  under  the 
chin.  She  was  to  bring  her  slippers  and  clocked  stock 
ings,  her  newest  white  frock,  and  if  she  had  to  buy  a  new 
one  of  any  kind  it  need  not  be  made  until  she  came  to 
Hartford. 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing!  "  declared  Mrs.  Lev- 
erett,  aghast.  "  She  must  think  your  father  is  made  of 


iz6        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

money.  And  when  'Lecty  and  Matthias  were  married 
they  went  to  housekeeping  in  three  rooms  in  old  Mrs. 
Morton's  house,  and  'Lecty  was  happy  as  a  queen,  and 
had  to  save  at  every  turn.  She  wasn't  talking  then  about 
white  hats  and  wide  ribbons  and  feathers  and  gewgaws. 
The  idea!" 

"  Of  course  I  can't  have  the  hat,"  returned  Betty  re 
signedly.  "  But  my  brown  one  will  do.  And,  oh,  isn't 
it  lucky  my  silk  is  made  and  trimmed  with  that  beautiful 
lace!  If  I  only  had  my  white  skirt  worked!  And  that 
India  muslin  might  do  with  a  little  fixing  up.  If  I  had 
a  lace  ruffle  to  put  around  the  bottom !  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  I  can  spare  you,  Betty.  I  can't 
put  Doris  to  doing  anything.  When  any  of  my  girls 
were  ten  years  old  they  could  do  quite  a  bit  of 
housekeeping.  If  she  wasn't  so  behind  in  her 
studies!  " 

Betty  had  twenty  plans  in  a  moment,  but  she  knew  her 
mother  would  object  to  every  one.  She  would  be  very 
discreet  until  she  could  talk  the  matter  over  with  her 
father. 

"  Everything  about  the  journey  is  so  nicely  arranged," 
she  began;  "and,  you  see,  Electa  says  it  will  not  cost 
anything  to  Springfield.  There  may  not  be  a  chance 
again  this  whole  winter." 

"  The  summer  will  be  a  good  deal  pleasanter." 

"  But  the  Capital  won't  be  nearly  so" — "gay,"  she  was 
about  to  say,  but  changed  it  to  "  interesting." 

"  Betty,  I  do  wish  you  were  more  serious-minded.  To 
think  you're  sixteen,  almost  a  woman,  and  in  some  things 
you're  just  a  companion  for  Doris!  " 

Betty  thought  it  was  rather  hard  to  be  between  every 
thing.  She  was  not  old  enough  for  society,  she  was  not 
a  young  lady,  but  she  was  too  old  to  indulge  in  the  frolics 
of  girlhood.  She  couldn't  be  wise  and  sedate — at  least, 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  127 

she  did  not  want  to  be.  And  were  the  fun  and  the  good 
times  really  wicked? 

She  was  on  the  lookout  for  her  father  that  evening. 
Warren  was  going  to  the  house  of  a  friend  to  supper,  as 
the  debating  society  met  there,  and  it  saved  him  a  long 
walk. 

"  Father,  Electa's  letter  has  come,"  in  a  hurried  whis 
per.  "  She's  planned  out  my  visit,  but  mother  thinks — 
oh,  do  try  and  persuade  her,  and  make  it  possible!  I 
want  to  go  so  much." 

But  Betty  began  to  think  the  subject  never  would  be 
mentioned.  Supper  was  cleared  away,  Doris  and  James 
studied,  and  she  sat  and  worked  diligently  on  her  white 
gown.  Then  she  knew  her  mother  did  not  mean  to  say 
a  word  before  her  and  presently  she  went  to  bed. 

Mrs.  Leverett  handed  the  letter  over  to  her  husband. 
"  From  'Lecty,"  she  said  briefly. 

He  read  it  and  re-read  it,  while  she  knit  on  her  stocking. 

"  Yes  " — slowly.  "  Well — Betty  might  as  well  go. 
She  has  been  promised  the  visit  so  long." 

"  I  can't  spare  her.  Even  if  I  sent  James  home,  there's 
Doris.  And  I  am  not  as  spry  as  I  was  ten  years  ago. 
The  work  is  heavy." 

"  Oh,  you  must  have  someone.  John  Grant  was  in 
from  Roxbury  to-day.  He  has  two  girls  quite  anxious 
to  go  out  this  winter.  I  think  the  oldest  means  to  marry 
next  spring  or  summer,  and  wants  to  earn  a  little 
money." 

"  We  can't  take  in  everyone  who  wants  to  earn  a  little 
money." 

"  No,"  humorously.  "  It  would  bankrupt  us  these 
hard  times.  The  keep  would  be  the  same  as  for  Betty, 
and  a  few  dollars  wages  wouldn't  signify." 

"  But  Betty  '11  want  no  end  of  things.  It  does  seem  as 
if  'Lecty  had  turned  into  a  fine  lady.  Whether  it  would 


128        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

be  a  good  influence  on  Betty!  She's  never  been  serious 
yet." 

"  And  Electa  joined  the  church  at  fourteen.  I  think 
you  can  trust  Betty  with  her.  To  be  sure,  Mat's  pros 
pered  beyond  everything." 

Prosperity  and  every  good  gift  came  from  the  Lord, 
Mrs.  Leverett  fully  believed.  And  yet  David  had  seen 
the  "  ungodly  in  great  prosperity."  She  had  a  mother's 
pride  in  Mr.  and  Mrs.  King,  but  they  were  rather  gay 
with  dinner  parties  and  everything. 

"  She  will  have  to  take  Betty  just  as  she  is.  Her 
clothes  are  good  enough." 

Mr.  Leverett  re-read  the  letter.  He  wasn't  much 
judge  of  white  hats  and  wide  ribbons,  and,  since  the  time 
was  short,  perhaps  Electa  could  help  her  to  spend  the 
money  to  better  advantage,  and  there  would  be  no  worry. 
He  would  just  slip  a  bill  or  two  in  Betty's  hand  toward 
the  last. 

"  Betty's  a  nice-looking  girl,"  said  her  father. 

"  I  should  be  sorry  to  have  her  niceness  all  come  out 
in  looks,"  said  Betty's  mother. 

There  was  no  reply  to  this. 

"  I  really  do  not  think  she  ought  to  go.  There  will 
be  other  winters." 

"  Well — we  will  sleep  on  the  matter.  We  can't  tell 
about  next  winter." 

Warren  thought  she  ought  to  go.  Aunt  Priscilla 
came  over  a  day  or  two  after  in  Jonas  Field's  sleigh.  He 
was  out  collecting,  and  would  call  for  her  at  half-past 
five,  though  she  still  insisted  she  was  pretty  sure-footed 
in  walking. 

Mr.  Perkins  in  a  moment  of  annoyance  had  once  said 
to  his  wife :  "  Priscilla,  you  have  one  virtue,  at  least. 
One  can  always  tell  just  where  to  find  you.  You  are 
sure  to  be  on  the  opposition  side." 


WHAT   WINTER    BROUGHT.  129 

She  had  a  faculty  of  always  seeing  how  the  other  side 
looked.  She  had  a  curious  sympathy  with  it  as  well. 
And  though  she  was  not  an  irresolute  woman,  she  did 
sometimes  have  a  longing  to  go  over  to  the  enemy 
when  it  was  very  attractive. 

She  listened  now — and  nodded  at  Mrs.  Leverett's  rea 
soning,  adding  the  pungency  of  her  sniff.  Betty's  heart 
dropped  like  lead.  True,  she  had  not  really  counted  on 
Aunt  Priscilla's  influence. 

"  I  just  do  suppose  if  'Lecty  was  ill  and  alone,  and 
wanted  Betty,  there'd  be  no  difficulty.  It's  the  question 
between  work  and  play.  There  wan't  much  time  to  play 
when  I  was  young,  and  now  I  wish  I  had  some  of  the 
work,  since  I'm  too  old  to  play.  I  do  believe  the  thing 
ought  to  be  evened  up." 

This  was  rather  non-committal,  but  the  girl's  heart 
rose  a  little. 

"  Oh,  if  'Lecty  was  ill — but  you  know,  Aunt  Priscilla, 
they  keep  a  man  beside  the  girl,  and  it  seems  to  me  she 
is  always  having  a  nurse  when  the  children  are  ailing,  or 
a  woman  in  to  sew,  or  some  extra  help.  She  doesn't 
need  Betty,  and  it  seems  as  if  I  did." 

"  Now,  if  that  little  young  one  was  good  for  any 
thing!  " 

"  She's  at  her  lessons  all  the  time,  and  she  must  learn 
to  sew.  I  should  have  been  ashamed  of  my  girls  if  they 
had  not  known  how  to  make  one  single  garment  by  the 
time  they  were  ten  year  old." 

"  But  Doris  isn't  ten,"  interposed  Betty.  "  And  here 
is  Electa's  letter,  Aunt  Priscilla." 

"  No,  I  don't  see  how  I  can  spare  Betty,"  said  Mrs. 
Leverett  decisively. 

Aunt  Priscilla  took  out  her  glasses  and  polished  them 
and  then  adjusted  them  to  her  rather  high  nose. 

"  Well,  'Lecty's  got  to  be  quite  quality,  hasn't  she? 


130        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

And  Matthias,  too.  I  suppose  it's  proper  to  give  folks 
their  whole  name  when  they're  getting  up  in  the  world 
and  going  to  legislatures.  But  land!  I  remember  Mat 
King  when  he  was  a  patched-up,  barefooted  little  boy. 
He  was  always  hanging  after  'Lecty,  and  your  uncle 
thought  she  might  have  done  better.  'Lecty  was  real 
good-looking.  And  now  they're  top  of  the  heap  with 
menservants  and  maidservants,  and  goodness  knows 
what  all." 

"  Yes,  they  have  prospered  remarkably." 

"  The  Kings  were  a  nice  family.  My,  how  Mis'  King 
did  keep  them  children,  five  of  them,  when  their  father 
died,  and  not  a  black  sheep  among  them!  Theron's  a 
big  sea  captain,  and  Zenas  in  Washington  building  up  the 
Capitol,  and  I  dare  say  Mat  is  thinking  of  being  sent  to 
Congress.  Joe  is  in  the  Army,  and  the  young  one  keeps 
his  mother  a  lady  in  New  York,  I've  heard  say.  Mis' 
King  deserves  some  reward." 

Betty  glanced  up  in  surprise.  It  was  seldom  Aunt 
Priscilla  praised  in  this  wholesale  fashion. 

"  And  this  about  the  hat  is  just  queer,  Betty.  You 
should  have  seen  old  Madam  Clarissa  Bowdoin,  who 
came  to  call  yesterday,  with  a  fine  sleigh  and  driver  and 
footman.  She  just  holds  on  to  this  world's  good  things, 
I  tell  you,  and  she's  past  seventy.  My,  how  she  was 
trigged  out  in  a  black  satin  pelisse  lined  with  fur !  And 
she  had  a  black  beaver  bonnet  or  hat,  whatever  you  call 
it,  with  a  big  bow  on  top,  and  two  black  feathers  flying. 
I  should  hate  to  have  my  feathers  whip  all  out  in  such  a 
windy  day." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  is  the  first  style,"  said  Betty.  "  Hart 
ford  can't  keep  it  all." 

"  Hartford  can't  hold  a  candle  to  Boston,  even  if  Mat 
King  is  there.  Stands  to  reason  we  can  get  fashions  just 
as  soon  here,  if  theirs  do  come  from  New  York.  Madam 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  131 

was  mighty  fine.  You  see,  I  do  have  some  grand  friends, 
Betty.  Your  uncle  was  a  man  well  thought  of." 

"  Madam  Bowdoin  holds  her  age  wonderfully,"  said 
Mrs.  Leverett. 

"  Yes.  But  she's  never  done  a  day's  work  in  her  life, 
and  I  don't  remember  when  I  didn't  work.  Let  me  see 
— I've  most  forgot  the  thread  of  my  discourse.  Oh,  you 
never  would  believe,  Betty,  that  twenty  year  ago  there 
was  just  such  a  fashion.  I  had  a  white  beaver — what 
possessed  me  to  get  it  I  don't  know.  Everything  was 
awful  high.  I  had  an  idea  that  white  would  be  rather 
plain,  but  when  it  had  that  great  bow  on  top,  and  strings 
a  full  finger  wide — well,  I  didn't  even  dare  show  it  to 
your  uncle !  So  I  packed  it  away  with  white  wax  and  in 
a  linen  towel,  and  when  she'd  gone  yesterday  I  went  and 
looked  at  it.  'Taint  white  now,  but  it's  just  the  color  of 
rich  cream  when  it's  stood  twenty-four  hours  or  so. 
Fursisee,  they  were  just  as  much  alike  as  two  peas  except 
as  to  color  and  the  feathers.  I  declare  I  was  beat !  Now, 
if  you  were  going  to  be  married,  Betty,  it  might  do  for  a 
wedding  hat." 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  be  married,"  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  said  her  mother — "  at  sixteen." 

"  My  sister  Patty  was  married  when  she  was  sixteen, 
and  Submit  when  she  was  seventeen.  The  oldest  girls 
went  off  in  a  hurry,  so  the  others  had  to  fill  their  places. 
Well — it  just  amazes  me  reading  about  this  bonnet.  And 
whatever  I'll  do  with  mine  except  to  give  it  away,  I  don't 
know.  I  did  think  once  of  having  it  dyed.  But  the  bow 
on  top  was  so  handsome,  and  I've  kept  paper  wadded  up 
inside,  and  it  hasn't  flatted  down  a  mite.  Now,  Eliza 
beth,  she  has  that  silk  we  all  thought  so  foolish,  and  her 
brown  frock  and  pelisse  will  be  just  the  thing  to  travel 
in.  And  maybe  I  could  find  something  else.  The 
things  will  be  scattered  when  I  am  dead  and  gone,  and 


132        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD    BOSTON. 

I  might  as  well  have  the  good  of  giving  them  away. 
Most  of  the  girls  are  married  off  and  have  husbands  to 
provide  for  them.  I  used  to  think  I'd  take  some  orphan 
body  to  train  and  sort  of  fill  Polly's  place,  for  she 
grows  more  unreliable  every  day.  Yet  I  do  suppose  it's 
Christian  charity  to  keep  her.  And  young  folks  are  so 
trifling." 

"  Go  make  a  cup  of  tea,  Betty,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett. 

"  Now,  Elizabeth,"  when  Betty  had  shut  the  door, 
"  I  don't  see  why  you  mightn't  as  well  let  Betty  go  as 
not.  'Tisn't  as  if  it  was  among  strangers.  And  there's 
really  no  telling  what  may  happen  next  year.  We 
haven't  any  promise  of  that." 

Mrs.  Leverett  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  Tisn't  every  day  such  a  chance  comes  to  hand.  She 
couldn't  go  alone  on  a  journey  like  that.  And  'Lecty 
seems  quite  lotting  on  it." 

"  But  Betty's  just  started  in  at  housekeeping,  and  she 
would  forget  so  much." 

"  Betty  started  in  full  six  months  ago.  And  the  world 
swings  round  so  fast  I  dare  say  what  she  learns  will  be 
as  old-fashioned  as  the  hills  in  a  few  years.  I  didn't  do 
the  way  my  mother  taught  me — husband  used  to  laugh 
me  out  of  it.  She'll  have  time  enough  to  learn." 

The  tea,  a  biscuit,  and  a  piece  of  pie  came  in  in  tempt 
ing  array.  Aunt  Priscilla  was  at  her  second  cup 
when  Jonas  Field  arrived,  good  ten  minutes  before  the 
time. 

"  You  come  over  to-morrow,  Betty,"  said  Aunt  Pris 
cilla.  "  You  and  Dorothy  just  take  a  run ;  it'll  do  you 
good.  That  child  will  turn  into  a  book  next.  She's  got 
some  of  the  Adams  streaks  in  her.  And  girls  don't  need 
so  much  book  learning.  Solomon's  wise,  and  he  don't 
even  know  his  letters." 

That  made  Doris  laugh.     She  was  getting  quite  used 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  133 

to  Aunt  Priscilla.     She  rose  and  made  a  pretty  courtesy, 
and  said  she  would  like  to  come. 

Polly  had  forgotten  to  light  the  lamp.  She  had  been 
nursing  Solomon,  and  the  fire  had  burned  low.  Aunt 
Priscilla  scolded,  to  be  sure.  Polly  was  getting  rather 
deaf  as  well. 

"  It's  warm  out  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Polly. 

"  I  want  it  warm  here.  I  aint  going  to  begin  to 
save  on  firing  at  my  time  of  life !  I  have  enough  to  last 
me  out,  and  I  don't  suppose  anybody  will  thank  me  for 
the  rest.  Bring  in  some  logs." 

Aunt  Priscilla  sat  with  a  shawl  around  her  until  the 
cheerful  warmth  began  to  diffuse  itself  and  the  blaze 
lightened  up  the  room.  Polly  out  in  the  kitchen  was  re 
hearsing  her  woes  to  Solomon. 

"  It's  my  'pinion  if  missus  lives  much  longer  she'll  be 
queerer'n  Dick's  hatband.  That  just  wouldn't  lay  any 
how,  I've  heerd  tell,  though  I  don't  know  who  Dick  was 
and  what  he'd  been  doing,  but  he  was  mighty  queer. 
'Pears  to  me  he  must  a-lived  before  the  war  when  Gen 
eral  Washington  licked  the  English.  And  there's  no 
suitin'  missus.  First  it's  too  hot  and  you're  'stravagant, 
then  it's  too  cold  and  she  wants  to  burn  up  all  the  wood 
in  creation !  " 

Aunt  Priscilla  watched  the  flame  of  the  dancing  scar 
let,  blue,  and  leaping  white-capped  arrows  that  shot  up, 
and  out  of  the  side  of  one  eye  she  saw  a  picture  on  the 
end  of  the  braided  rug — a  little  girl  with  a  cloud  of  light 
curls  sitting  there  with  a  great  gray  cat  in  her  lap.  The 
room  was  so  much  less  lonely  then.  Perhaps  she  was 
getting  old,  real  old,  with  a  weakness  for  human  kind. 
Was  that  a  sign?  She  did  enjoy  the  runs  over  to  the 
Leveretts'.  What  would  happen  if  she  should  not  be 
able  to  go  out! 

She  gave  a  little  shudder  over  that.     Of  all  the  large 


134        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

family  of  sisters  and  brothers  there  was  no  one  living 
very  near  or  dear  to  her.  She  was  next  to  the  youngest. 
They  had  all  married,  some  had  died,  one  brother  had 
gone  to  the  Carolinas  and  found  the  climate  so  agreeable 
he  had  settled  there.  One  sister  had  gone  back  to  Eng 
land.  There  were  some  nieces  and  nephews,  but  in  the 
early  part  of  her  married  life  Mr.  Perkins  had  objected 
to  any  of  them  making  a  home  at  his  house.  "  We  have 
no  children  of  our  own,"  he  said,  "  and  I  take  it  as  a  sign 
that  if  the  Lord  had  meant  us  to  care  for  any,  he  would 
have  sent  them  direct  to  us,  and  not  had  us  taking  them 
in  at  second-hand." 

They  had  both  grown  selfish  and  only  considered  their 
own  wants  and  comforts.  But  the  years  of  solitude 
looked  less  and  less  inviting  to  the  woman,  who  had 
been  born  with  a  large  social  side  that  had  met  with  a 
pinch  here,  been  lopped  off  there,  and  crowded  in  an 
other  person's  measure.  If  the  person  had  not  been  up 
right,  scrupulously  just  in  his  dealings,  and  a  good  pro 
vider,  that  would  have  altered  her  respect  for  him.  And 
wives  were  to  obey  their  husbands,  just  as  children  were 
trained  to  obey  their  parents. 

But  children  were  having  ideas  of  their  own  now. 
Well,  when  she  was  sixteen  she  went  to  Marblehead  and 
spent  a  summer  with  her  sister  Esther,  who  was  having 
hard  times  then  with  her  flock  of  little  children,  and  who 
a  few  years  after  had  given  up  the  struggle.  Mr.  Green 
had  married  again  and  gone  out  to  the  lake  countries  and 
started  a  sawmill,  where  there  were  forests  to  his  hand. 

But  this  long-ago  summer  had  been  an  epoch  in  her 
life.  She  had  baked  and  brewed,  swept  and  scrubbed, 
cooked  and  put  in  her  spare  time  spinning,  while  poor 
Esther  sewed  and  took  care  of  a  very  cross  pair  of  twins 
and  crawled  about  a  little.  There  had  been  some  merry 
making  that  would  hardly  have  been  allowed  at  home, 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  135 

and  a  young  man  who  had  sat  on  the  doorstep  and  talked, 
who  had  taken  her  driving,  and  with  whom  she  had 
wickedly  and  frivolously  danced  one  afternoon  when  a 
party  of  young  people  had  a  merrymaking  after  the  hay 
was  in.  It  was  the  only  time  in  her  life  she  had  ever 
danced,  and  it  was  a  glimpse  of  fairy  delight  to  her.  But 
she  was  frightened  half  to  death  when  she  came  home, 
and  began  to  have  two  sides  to  her  life,  and  she  had  never 
gotten  rid  of  the  other  side. 

She  had  a  vague  idea  that  next  summer  she  would  go 
again.  Meanwhile  Mr.  Perkins  began  to  come.  There 
was  an  older  sister,  and  no  one  surmised  it  was  Priscilla, 
until  in  March,  when  he  spoke  to  Priscilla's  father. 

"  I  declare  I  was  clear  beat,"  said  the  worthy  parent. 
"  Seems  to  me  Martha  would  be  more  suitable,  but  his 
heart's  set  on  Priscilla.  He's  a  good,  steady  man,  fore 
handed  and  all  that,  and  will  make  her  a  good  husband, 
and  she'll  keep  growing  older.  There  is  nothing  to  say 
against  it." 

The  idea  that  Priscilla  would  say  anything  was  not 
entertained  for  a  moment.  Mr.  Perkins  began  to  walk 
home  from  church  with  her  and  come  to  tea  on  Sunday 
evening,  and  it  was  soon  noised  about  that  they  were 
keeping  steady  company.  Martha  went  to  Marblehead 
that  summer  and  one  of  the  twins  died.  In  the  fall  Pris 
cilla  was  married  and  went  to  housekeeping  in  King 
Street,  over  her  husband's  place  of  business.  She  was 
engrossed  with  her  life,  but  she  dreamed  sometimes  of 
the  other  side  and  the  young  man  who  had  remarked 
upon  the  gowns  she  wore  and  put  roses  in  her  hair,  and 
she  had  ideas  of  lace  and  ribbons  and  the  vanities  of  the 
world  in  that  early  married  period.  Her  attire  was  rich 
but  severely  plain;  she  was  not  stinted  in  anything.  She 
was  even  allowed  to  "  lay  by  "  on  her  own  account,  which 
meant  saving  up  a  little  money.  She  made  a  good,  care- 


T36        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

ful  wife.  And  some  months  before  he  died,  touched  by 
her  attentive  care,  her  husband  said : 

"  Silla,  I  don't  see  but  you  might  as  well  have  all  I'm 
worth,  as  to  divide  it  round  in  the  family.  They  will  be 
disappointed,  I  suppose,  but  they  haven't  earned  nor 
saved.  You  have  been  a  good  wife,  and  you  just  take 
your  comfort  on  it  when  I'm  gone.  Then  if  you  should 
feel  minded  to  give  back  some  of  it — why,  that's  your 
affair." 

The  Perkins  family  had  not  liked  it  very  well.  They 
knew  Aunt  Priscilla  would  marry  again,  and  all  that 
money  go  to  a  second  husband.  But  she  had  not 
married,  though  there  had  been  opportunities.  Later  on 
she  almost  wished  she  had.  She  had  entertained  plans 
of  taking  a  girl  to  bring  up,  and  had  considered  this  little 
orphaned  Adams  girl, — who  she  had  imagined  in  a  vague 
way  would  be  glad  of  a  good  home  with  a  prospect  of 
some  money, — if  she  behaved  herself  rightly.  She  had 
pictured  a  stout,  red-cheeked  girl  who  needed  training, 
and  not  a  fine  little  lady  like  Doris  Adams. 

But  she  was  glad  Doris  had  sat  there  on  the  rug  with 
the  cat  in  her  lap.  And  she  was  glad  there  had  been  the 
summer  at  Marblehead,  and  the  young  man  who  had 
said  more  with  his  eyes  than  with  his  lips.  He  had  never 
married,  and  had  been  among  the  earliest  to  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  country.  She  always  felt  that  in  a  way 
he  belonged  to  her.  And  if  in  youth  she  had  had  one 
good  time,  why  shouldn't  Betty?  Perhaps  Betty  might 
marry  in  some  sensible  way  that  would  be  for  the 
best,  and  this  visit  at  Hartford  would  illume  all  her 
life. 

There  were  things  about  it  she  had  never  confessed. 
When  her  conscience  upbraided  her  mightily  she  called 
them  sins  and  prayed  over  them.  There  were  other  mat 
ters — the  white  bonnet  had  been  one.  She  had  pur- 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  137 

chased  it  of  a  friend  who  was  going  in  mourning,  who 
had  made  her  try  it  on,  and  said : 

"  Just  look  at  yourself  in  the  glass,  Priscilla  Perkins. 
You  never  had  anything  half  so  becoming.  You  look 
five  years  younger!  " 

She  did  look  in  the  glass.  She  could  have  pirouetted 
around  the  room  in  delight.  She  was  in  love  with  her 
pretty  youthful  face. 

So  she  bought  the  hat — at  a  bargain,  of  course.  She 
put  it  away  when  it  came  home,  and  visited  it  surrepti 
tiously,  but  somehow  never  had  the  courage  to  confess, 
or  to  propose  wearing  it,  though  other  women  of  her 
age  indulged  in  as  much  and  more  gayety.  In  the  spring 
she  bought  a  new  silk  gown,  a  gray  with  a  kind  of  lilac 
tint,  and  cut  off  the  breadths  to  make  sure  of  it. 

Mr.  Perkins  viewed  it  critically. 

"  I'm  not  quite  certain,  Priscilla,  that  it  is  appropriate. 
And  a  brown  would  give  you  so  much  more  good  wear. 
It  looks  too — too  youthful." 

He  never  remembered  there  were  fifteen  years  between 
himself  and  Priscilla. 

"  I — I  think  I  would  change  it." 

"  Oh,"  with  the  best  accent  of  regret  she  could  assume, 
"  I  have  cut  off  the  breadths  and  begun  to  sew  them 
up.  It's  the  spring  color.  And  summer  is  coming." 

"  Uu — um "  with  a  reluctant  nod. 

She  wore  it  to  a  christening  and  a  wedding,  but  the 
real  delight  in  it  had  to  be  smothered.  And  when  her 
husband  proposed  she  should  have  it  dyed  she  laid  it 
away. 

There  were  other  foolish  indulgences.  Bows  and 
artificial  flowers  that  she  had  put  on  bonnets  and  worn 
in  her  own  room  with  locked  doors,  then  pulled  them 
off  and  laid  them  away.  She  was  so  fond  of  pretty 
things,  gay  things,  the  pleasures  of  life — and  she  was 


i38        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

always  relegated  to  the  prose !  Other  people  wore  finery 
with  a  serene  calmness,  and  went  about  their  daily  duties, 
to  church,  on  missions  of  mercy,  and  were  well  thought 
of.  Where  was  the  sin?  Her  clothes  cost  quite  as 
much.  Mr.  Perkins  was  a  close  manager  but  not  stingy 
with  his  wife. 

She  used  to  think  she  would  confess  to  her  mother 
about  the  dancing,  but  she  never  had.  She  ought  to 
bring  out  these  "  sins  of  the  eye  "  and  lay  them  before 
her  husband,  but  she  never  found  the  right  moment  and 
the  courage.  She  had  meant  to  deal  them  out  to  the 
Leverett  girls,  especially  Electa — but  Electa  seemed  to 
prosper  so  amazingly!  She  must  do  something  with 
them,  and  clear  up  her  life,  sweep,  and  garnish  before  the 
summons  came.  She  was  getting  to  be  old  now,  and  if 
she  went  off  suddenly  someone  would  come  in  and  take 
possession  and  scatter  her  treasures.  Likely  as  not  it 
would  be  the  Perkinses,  for  she  hadn't  made  any  will. 

Why  shouldn't  Betty  have  some  of  them  and  go  off 
on  her  good  time.  It  wouldn't  be  housekeeping  and 
spinning  and  looking  after  fractious  children.  But  those 
evenings  out  on  the  stoop,  and  the  timid  invitations  to 
take  a  walk,  the  pressure  of  the  hand,  the  smile  out  of  the 
eyes — oh,  why 

All  her  life  she  had  been  asking  "  Why?  " — taking 
the  hard  and  distasteful  because  she  thought  there  was  a 
virtue  in  it,  not  because  she  had  been  trained  to  believe 
goodness  must  have  a  severe  side  and  that  really  pleas 
ant  things  were  wicked.  The  "  Whys  "  had  never  been 
answered,  much  as  she  had  prayed  about  them. 

She  would  never  take  the  girl  to  bring  up  now.  As 
for  Doris  Adams — Cousin  Winthrop  would  be  thinking 
presently  that  the  ground  wasn't  good  enough  for  her 
to  walk  on.  So  there  was  only  Betty,  unless  she  took  up 
some  of  the  Perkins  girls.  Abby  was  rather  nice.  But, 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  139 

after  all,  her  father  was  only  a  half-brother  to  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla's  husband.  And  she  must  make  that  will. 

"  Missus,  aint  you  goin'  to  come  to  supper?  I  told  you 
'twas  ready  full  five  minutes  ago,"  said  an  aggrieved 
voice. 

Aunt  Priscilla  sprang  up  and  gave  herself  a  kind  of 
mental  shaking.  She  stepped  around  to  avoid  the  little 
girl  on  the  rug  with  the  cat  in  her  lap.  Polly  went  on 
grumbling.  The  toast  was  cold,  the  tea  had  drawn  too 
long,  and  for  once  the  mistress  never  said  a  word  in 
dispraise. 

"  She's  goin'  off,"  thought  Polly.  "  That's  a  bad  sign, 
though  she  does  sit  over  the  fire  a  good  deal,  and  you 
can't  tell  by  that.  Land  alive!  I  hope  she'll  live  my 
time  out,  or  I'll  sure  have  to  go  to  the  poorhouse !  " 

Aunt  Priscilla  went  back  to  her  fire  and  the  vision  of 
the  little  girl  who  had  made  a  curious  impression  on  her 
by  a  kind  of  sweetness  quite  new  in  her  experience.  It 
had  disturbed  her  greatly.  Nothing  about  the  child  had 
been  as  she  supposed. 

Everybody  went  down  to  her,  which  meant  that  she 
had  some  subtle,  indescribable  charm,  but  Aunt  Pris 
cilla  would  have  said  she  had  no  dictionary  words  to  ex 
plain  it,  though  there  had  been  a  speller  and  definer  in 
her  day. 

The  little  girl  had  come  to  "  seven  times "  in  the 
tables.  She  had  studied  an  hour,  when  Betty  said  they 
had  better  go  and  get  back  by  dark.  Jamie  boy  gave  a 
little  "  snicker  "  as  she  shut  her  book.  The  disdain  of 
her  young  compeer  was  quite  hard  to  bear,  but  she 
meekly  accepted  the  fact  that  she  "  wasn't  smart."  If 
she  had  known  how  he  longed  to  go  with  them,  she 
would  have  felt  quite  even,  but  he  kept  that  to  him 
self. 

All  Boston  was  still  hooded  in  snow,  for  every  few  days 


140        A    LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD    BOSTON. 

there  came  a  new  fall.  Oh,  how  beautiful  it  was! 
Everybody  walked  in  the  middle  of  the  street, — it  was  so 
hard  and  smooth, — though  you  had  to  keep  turning  out 
for  vehicles,  but  one  didn't  meet  them  very  often. 

Boots  were  not  made  high  for  girls  and  women  then, 
but  everybody  had  a  pair  of  thick  woolen  stockings, 
some  of  them  with  a  leather  sole  on  the  outside,  which 
was  more  durable.  The  children  pulled  them  well  up 
over  their  knees  and  kept  good  and  warm.  Some  people 
had  leather  leggings,  but  rubber  boots  had  not  been 
invented. 

Boys  were  out  snowballing — girls,  too,  for  that  matter. 
Someone  sent  a  ball  that  flew  all  over  Doris,  but  she  only 
laughed.  She  snowballed  with  little  James  now  and 
then. 

So  they  were  bright  and  merry  when  they  reached  the 
sign  of  "  Jonas  Field,"  and  Doris  gave  her  pretty,  rather 
formal  greeting.  She  was  never  quite  sure  of  Aunt 
Priscilla. 

"  I  suppose  you  came  to  see  Solomon !  "  exclaimed  that 
lady. 

"  Not  altogether,"  replied  Doris. 

"  Well,  he  is  out  in  the  kitchen.  And,  Betty,  what  is 
the  prospect  to-day?  " 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Priscilla,  I  almost  think  I'll  get  off. 
Father  is  on  my  side,  and  mother  did  really  promise 
'Lecty  last  summer.  Mother  couldn't  get  along  alone, 
you  know,  and  Jimmie  boy  is  doing  so  well  at  school 
that  she  would  like  to  keep  him  all  winter.  Father 
knows  of  a  girl  who  would  be  very  glad  to  come  in  and 
work  for  three  dollars  a  month,  though  he  says  every 
body  gives  four  or  more.  But  Mr.  Eastman  will  be  here 
so  soon.  Father  said  I  might  get  some  things  in 
Hartford." 

"  We'll  see  what  Boston  has  first,"  returned  Aunt  Pris- 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  141 

cilia  with  a  little  snort.  "  I've  been  hunting  over  my 
things." 

People  in  those  days  thought  it  a  great  favor  to  have 
clothes  left  to  them,  as  you  will  see  by  old  wills.  And 
occasionally  the  grandmothers  brought  out  garments 
beforehand,  and  did  not  wait  until  they  were  dead  and 
gone. 

"  I  have  a  silk  gown  that  I  never  wore  above  half  a 
dozen  times.  I  could  have  it  dyed,  I  suppose,  but  they're 
so  apt  to  get  stringy  afterward.  Maybe  you  wouldn't 
like  it  because  it's  a  kind  of  gray.  You're  free  to  leave 
it  alone.  I  shan't  be  a  mite  put  out." 

The  old  spirit  of  holding  on  reasserted  itself.  Of 
course,  if  Betty  didn't  like  it,  her  duty  would  be  done. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Priscilla!  It  looks  like  moonlight  over 
the  harbor.  It's  beautiful." 

The  elder  woman  had  shaken  it  out  and  made  ripples 
with  it,  and  Betty  stood  in  admiring  wonderment.  It 
looked  to  her  like  a  wedding  gown,  but  she  knew  Aunt 
Priscilla's  had  been  Canton  crape,  dyed  brown  first  and 
then  black  and  then  worn  out.  There  was  an  old  adage 
to  the  effect  that  one  never  could  get  rich  until  one's 
wedding  clothes  were  worn  out. 

"  It's  spotted  some,  I  find — just  a  faint  kind  of  yellow, 
but  that  may  cut  out.  I  never  had  any  good  of  it,"  and 
she  sighed.  "  It  isn't  what  you  might  call  gay ;  but,  land 
alive!  I  might  as  well  have  bought  bright  red!  There's 
plenty  of  it  to  make  over.  They  weren't  wearing  such 
skimping  skirts  then,  and  I  had  an  extra  breadth  put  in 

so  that  it  would  all  fade  alike.  Well "  And  she 

gave  a  half-reluctant  sigh. 

"  Why,  I  feel  as  if  it  ought  to  be  saved  for  a  wedding 
gown,"  declared  Betty,  her  eyes  alight  with  pleasure. 
"  It's  the  most  beautiful  thing.  Oh,  Aunt  Priscilla!  " 

A  modern  girl  would  have  thrown  her  arms  around 


142        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD  BOSTON. 

Aunt  Priscilla's  neck  and  kissed  her,  if  one  could  imagine 
a  modern  girl  being  grateful  for  a  gown  a  quarter  of  a 
century  old,  except  for  masquerading  purposes.  People 
who  could  remember  the  great  Jonathan  Edwards  awak 
ening  still  classed  all  outward  demonstrations  of  regard 
as  carnal  affections  to  be  subdued.  The  poor  old  life 
hungered  now  for  a  little  human  love  without  under 
standing  what  its  want  really  was,  just  as  it  had  hun 
gered  for  more  than  half  a  century. 

"  Well,  child,  maybe  'Lecty  can  plan  to  make  some 
thing  out  of  it.  You  better  just  take  it  to  her.  And 
here's  a  box  of  ribbons,  things  I've  had  no  use  for  this 
many  a  year.  You  see  I  had  a  way  of  saving  up — I 
didn't  have  much  call  for  wearing  such." 

Aunt  Priscilla  felt  that  she  was  renouncing  idols. 
How  many  times  she  had  fingered  these  things  with 
exquisite  love  and  longing  and  a  desire  to  wear  them! 
Madam  Bowdoin,  almost  ten  years  older,  wore  her  fine 
ribbons  and  laces  and  her  own  snowy  white  hair  in  little 
rings  about  her  forehead.  No  one  accused  her  of  aping 
youth.  Aunt  Priscilla  had  worn  a  false  front  under  her 
cap  for  many  a  year  that  was  now  a  rusty,  faded  brown. 
Her  own  white  hair  was  cut  off  close. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Priscilla,  I  think  my  ship  has  come  in  from 
the  Indies.  I  never  can  thank  you  enough.  I'm  so  glad 
you  saved  them.  You  see,  times  are  hard,  and  if  father 
had  to  pay  a  girl  for  taking  my  place  at  home,  he 
wouldn't  feel  that  he  could  afford  me  much  finery.  And 
the  journey,  too.  But  I  have  only  to  pay  from  Spring 
field  to  Boston,  for  Mr.  Eastman  has  his  own  convey 
ance — a  nice  big  covered  sleigh.  And  now  all  these 
beautiful  things!  I  feel  as  rich  as  a  queen." 

Doris  had  been  standing  there  big-eyed  and  never 
once  asked  for  Solomon. 

Aunt  Priscilla  began  to  fold  the  gown.     It  still  had  a 


WHAT   WINTER   BROUGHT.  143 

crackle  and  rustle  delightful  to  hear.  And  there  was  a 
roll  of  new  pieces. 

"  Why,  next  summer  I  could  have  a  lovely  drawn 
bonnet — only  it  does  cost  so  much  to  have  one  made.  I 
wish  I  knew  how,"  said  Betty. 

"  I  suppose — you  don't  want  to  see  my  old  thing?  " 
rather  contemptuously. 

"The  hat,  do  you  mean?  Oh,  I  just  should!  I've 
thought  so  much  about  it,  and  how  queer  it  is  that  old- 
fashioned  articles  should  come  round." 

"  Every  seven  years,  people  say;  but  I  don't  believe  it's 
quite  as  often  as  that." 

From  the  careful  way  it  was  pinned  up,  one  would 
never  imagine  it  had  been  out  that  very  morning.  The 
bows  were  filled  with  paper  to  keep  them  up,  and  bits  of 
paper  crumpled  up  around,  so  they  could  not  be  crushed. 
Its  days  of  whiteness  were  over,  but  it  was  the  loveliest, 
softest  cream  tint,  and  looked  as  if  it  had  just  come  over 
from  France.  The  beaver  was  almost  like  plush,  and  the 
puffed  satin  lining  inside  was  as  fresh  as  if  its  reverse 
plaits  had  just  been  laid  in  place. 

"  Oh,  do  put  it  on! "  cried  Doris  eagerly. 

Betty  held  the  strings  together  under  her  fair  round 
chin. 

"You  look  like  a  queen!"  said  the  child  admir 
ingly. 

"  Why  it  is  just  as  they  are  wearing  them  now,  the  tip 
top  style.  'Lecty  couldn't  have  described  this  hat  any 
better  if  she  had  seen  it.  And  if  I  can  have  it,  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla,  I  shall  not  care  a  bit  about  feathers.  It's  beautiful 
enough  without." 

"  Yes,  yes,  take  them  all  and  have  a  good  time  with 
them.  Now  you  see  if  you  can  pack  it  up — you'll  have 
to  learn." 

Aunt  Priscilla  dropped  into  her  chair.     She  had  cast 


144        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

out  her  life's  temptations,  and  it  had  been  a  great 
struggle. 

"  Not  that  way — make  the  bow  stand  up.  The  band 
box  is  large  enough.  And  give  the  strings  a  loose  fold, 
so.  Now  put  that  white  paper  over.  It's  like  making  a 
gambrel  roof.  Then  bring  up  the  ends  of  the  towel  and 
pin  them.  Polly  shall  go  along  and  carry  it  home 
for  you." 

"  I'm  a  thousand  times  obliged.  I  wish  I  knew  what 
to  do  in  return." 

"  Have  a  good  time,  but  don't  forget  that  a  good  time 
is  not  all  to  life.  Child — why  do  you  look  at  me  so?  "  for 
Doris  had  come  close  to  Aunt  Priscilla  and  seemed 
studying  her. 

"  Were  you  ever  a  little  girl,  and  what  was  your  good 
time  like?" 

Doris'  wondering  eyes  were  soft  and  seemed  more 
pitying  than  curious. 

"  No,  I  never  was  a  little  girl.  There  were  no  little 
girls  in  my  time."  She  jerked  the  words  out  in  a  spas 
modic  way,  and  put  her  hand  to  her  heart  as  if  there  was 
a  pain  or  pressure.  "  When  I  was  three  year  old  I  had 
to  take  care  of  my  little  brother.  I  stood  up  on  a  bench 
to  wash  dishes  when  I  was  four,  and  scoured  milk-pans 
and  the  pewter  plates  we  used  then.  And  at  six  I  was 
spinning  on  the  little  wheel  and  knitting  stockings.  I 
went  to  school  part  of  every  year,  and  at  thirteen  I 
was  doing  a  woman's  work.  No,  I  never  was  a  little 
girl." 

Doris  put  her  soft  hand  over  the  one  that  had  been 
strained  and  made  coarse  and  large  in  the  joints,  and 
roughened  as  to  skin  while  yet  it  was  in  its  tender  youth. 
And  all  the  pay  there  had  been  from  her  father's  estate 
had  been  three  hundred  dollars  to  each  girl,  the  remain 
der  being  divided  evenly  among  the  boys.  She  felt  sud- 


CONCERNING   MANY   THINGS.  145 

denly  grateful  to  Hatfield  Perkins  for  the  easier  times  of 
her  married  life. 

"  Now,  both  of  you  go  out  in  the  kitchen  and  get  a 
piece  of  Polly's  fresh  gingerbread.  She  hasn't  lost  her 
art  in  that  yet.  Then  you  must  run  off  home,  for  it  will 
soon  be  dark,  and  Betty  will  be  needed  about  the 
supper." 

The  gingerbread  was  splendid.  Doris  broke  off  little 
crumbs  and  fed  them  to  Solomon,  and  told  him  some 
time  she  would  come  and  spend  the  afternoon  with  him. 
She  should  be  so  lonesome  when  Betty  went  away. 

Polly  carried  the  bandbox  and  bundle  for  them,  and 
Betty  took  the  box  of  ribbons.  Aunt  Priscilla  brought 
out  the  light-stand  and  set  her  candle  on  it  and  turned 
over  the  leaves  of  her  old  Bible  to  read  about  the  daugh 
ters  of  Zion  with  their  tinkling  feet  and  their  cauls  and 
their  round  tires  like  the  moon,  the  chains  and  the  brace 
lets  and  the  bonnets,  the  earrings,  the  mantles,  the 
wimples  and  the  crisping  pins,  the  fine  linen  and  the 
hoods  and  the  veils — and  all  these  were  to  be  done  away 
with!  To  be  sure  she  did  not  really  know  what  they  all 
were,  but  her  few  had  been  snares  and  a  source  of  secret 
idolatry  for  years  and  years.  She  had  nothing  to  do 
now  but  to  consider  the  end  of  all  things  and  prepare  for 
it.  But  there  was  the  dreaded  will  yet  to  make.  If  only 
there  was  someone  who  really  cared  about  her! 

CHAPTER   X. 

CONCERNING     MANY     THINGS. 

\A7HEN  Providence    overruled,  in  the  early  part  of 

*         the    century,    people    generally    gave    in.     The 

stronger  tide  was  called  Providence.     Perhaps  there  was 

a  small  degree  of  fatalism  in  it.     So  Mrs.  Leverett  ac- 


146        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

quiesced,  and  recalled  the  fact  that  she  had  promised 
Electa  that  Betty  should  come. 

Aunt  Priscilla's  generosity  was  astonishing.  The 
silken  gown  would  not  be  made  over  until  Betty  reached 
Hartford.  She  worked  industriously  on  her  white  one, 
but  her  mother  found  so  many  things  for  her  to  do. 
Then  Martha  Grant  came — a  stout,  hearty,  pink-cheeked 
country  girl  who  knew  how  to  "  take  hold,"  and  was 
glad  of  an  opportunity  to  earn  something  toward  a  wed 
ding  gown.  Doris  was  so  interested  that  she  hardly  re 
membered  how  much  she  should  miss  Betty,  though 
Warren  promised  to  help  her  with  her  lessons. 

So  the  trunk  was  packed.  Luckily  the  bandbox  could 
go  in  it,  for  it  was  quite  small.  Most  of  the  bandboxes 
were  immense  affairs  in  which  you  could  stow  a  good 
many  things  besides  the  bonnet.  Then  they  had  a  calico 
cover  with  a  stout  cord  run  through  the  hem. 

Mr.  Eastman  looked  rather  askance  at  the  trunk — he 
had  so  many  budgets  of  his  own,  and  for  his  wife.  How 
ever,  they  strapped  it  on  the  back  securely,  and  the  good- 
bys  were  uttered  for  a  whole  month. 

Doris  had  said  hers  in  the  morning.  She  could  not 
divest  herself  of  a  vague  presentiment  that  something 
would  happen  to  keep  Betty  until  to-morrow.  But 
Martha  was  to  sit  in  her  place  at  the  table. 

Now  that  the  reign  of  slavery  was  over,  the  farmers' 
girls  from  the  country  often  came  in  for  a  while.  They 
were  generally  taken  in  as  one  of  the  family — indeed,  few 
of  them  would  have  come  to  be  put  down  to  the  level  of 
a  common  servant.  Many  had  their  old  slaves  still  liv 
ing  with  them,  and  numbers  of  the  quality  preferred  col 
ored  servants. 

Jamie  boy  went  out  to  snowball  after  dinner.  Doris 
worked  a  line  across  her  sampler.  She  was  going  to  be 
gin  the  alphabet  next.  There  were  three  kinds  of  letters. 


CONCERNING   MANY   THINGS.  147 

Ordinary  capitals  like  printing,  small  letters,  and  writ 
ing  capitals.  These  were  very  difficult,  little  girls 
thought. 

She  put  up  her  work  presently,  studied  her  spelling, 
and  went  over  "  nine  times."  She  could  say  the  ten  and 
eleven  perfectly,  but  that  very  day  she  had  missed  on 
"  nine  times,"  and  Mrs.  Webb  told  her  she  had  better 
study  it  a  little  more. 

"  I  do  wonder  if  you  will  ever  get  through  with  the 
multiplication  tables !  "  said  Aunt  Elizabeth. 

Doris  sighed.     It  was  hard  to  be  so  slow  at  learning. 

" '  Nine  times  '  floored  me  pretty  well,  I  remember," 
confessed  Martha  Grant.  "  There's  great  difference  in 
children.  Some  have  heads  for  figures  and  some  don't. 
My  sister  Catharine  could  go  all  round  me.  But  she's 
that  dumb  about  sewing — I  don't  believe  you  ever  saw 
the  beat!  She  just  hates  it.  She'd  like  to  teach 
school!" 

Doris  was  very  glad  to  hear  that  someone  else  had 
been  slow. 

Betty  had  been  out  to  tea  occasionally,  and  Doris  tried 
to  make  believe  it  was  so  now.  They  would  have  missed 
her  more  but  Martha  was  a  great  talker.  There  were 
seven  children  at  the  Grants',  and  one  son  married. 
They  had  a  big  farm  and  a  good  deal  of  stock.  Martha's 
lover  had  bought  a  farm  also,  with  a  small  old  house  of 
two  rooms.  He  had  to  build  a  new  barn,  so  they  would 
wait  for  their  house.  She  had  a  nice  cow  she  had  raised, 
a  flock  of  twelve  geese,  and  her  father  had  promised  her 
the  old  mare  and  another  cow.  She  wanted  to  be 
married  by  planting  time.  She  had  a  nice  feather  bed 
and  two  pairs  of  pillows  and  five  quilts,  beside  two  wool 
blankets. 

Mrs.  Leverett  was  a  good  deal  interested  in  all  this. 
It  took  her  back  to  her  own  early  life.  City  girls  did 


148        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

come  to  have  different  ideas.  There  was  something  re 
freshing  in  this  very  homeliness. 

Martha  knit  and  sewed  as  fast  as  she  talked.  Mrs. 
Leverett  said  "  she  didn't  let  the  grass  grow  under  her 
feet,"  and  Doris  wondered  if  she  would  tread  it  out  in 
the  summer.  Of  course,  it  couldn't  grow  in  the  winter. 

"  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  she  said  presently,  in  a  sad  little 
voice,  "  am  I  to  sleep  all  alone?" 

"  Oh  dear,  no.  You  would  freeze  to  an  icicle. 
Martha  will  take  Betty's  place." 

They  wrapped  up  a  piece  of  brick  heated  pretty  well 
when  Doris  went  to  bed.  For  it  was  desperately  cold. 
But  the  soft  feathers  came  up  all  around  one,  and  in  a 
little  while  she  was  as  warm  as  toast.  She  did  not  even 
wake  when  Martha  came  to  bed.  Sometimes  Betty 
cuddled  the  dear  little  human  ball,  and  only  half  awake 
Doris  would  return  the  hug  and  find  a  place  to  kiss, 
whether  it  was  cheek  or  chin. 

"  Aunt  Elizabeth,"  when  she  came  in  from  school  one 
day,  "  do  you  know  that  Christmas  will  be  here  soon — 
next  Tuesday?  " 

"  Well,  yes,"  deliberately,  "  it  is  supposed  to  be  Christ 
mas." 

"  But  it  really  is,"  with  child-like  eagerness.  "  The 
day  on  which  Christ  was  born." 

"  The  day  that  is  kept  in  commemoration  of  the  birth 
of  Christ.  But  some  people  try  to  remember  every  day 
that  Christ  came  to  redeem  the  world.  So  that  one  day 
is  not  any  better  than  another." 

Doris  looked  puzzled.  "  At  home  we  always  kept  it," 
she  said  slowly.  "  Miss  Arabella  made  a  Christmas  cake 
and  ever  so  many  little  ones.  The  boys  came  around  to 
sing  Noel,  and  they  were  given  a  cake  and  a  penny,  and 
we  went  to  church." 

"  Yes;  it  is  quite  an  English  fashion.     When  you  are 


CONCERNING    MANY   THINGS.  149 

a  larger  girl  and  more  used  to  our  ways  you  will  under 
stand  why  we  do  not  keep  it." 

"  Don't  you  really  keep  it?  "  in  surprise. 

"  No,  my  dear." 

The  tone  was  kind,  but  not  encouraging  to  further 
enlightenment.  Doris  experienced  a  great  sense  of  dis 
appointment.  For  a  little  while  she  was  very  home 
sick  for  Betty.  To  have  her  away  a  whole  month! 
And  a  curious  thing  was  that  no  one  seemed  really  to 
miss  her  and  wish  her  back.  Mrs.  Leverett  scanned  the 
weather  and  the  almanac  and  hoped  they  would  get 
safely  to  Springfield  without  a  storm.  Mr.  Leverett 
counted  up  the  time.  It  had  not  stormed  yet. 

No  Christmas  and  no  Betty.  Not  even  a  wise  old  cat 
like  Solomon,  or  a  playful,  amusing  little  kitten.  The 
school  children  stared  when  she  talked  about  Christmas. 

Two  big  tears  fell  on  her  book.  She  was  frightened, 
for  she  had  not  meant  to  cry.  And  now  a  sense  of  deso 
lation  rushed  over  her.  Oh,  what  could  she  do  without 
Betty! 

Then  a  sleigh  stopped  at  the  door.  She  ran  to  the 
window,  and  when  she  saw  that  it  was  Uncle  Winthrop 
she  was  out  of  the  door  like  a  flash. 

"Well,  little  one?"  he  said  in  pleasant  inquiry,  which 
seemed  to  comprehend  a  great  deal.  "  How  do  you  get 
along  without  Betty?  Come  in  out  of  the  cold.  I've 
just  been  wondering  if  you  would  like  to  come  over  and 
keep  Christmas  with  me.  I  believe  they  do  not  have  any 
Christmas  here." 

"  No,  they  do  not.  Oh,  Uncle  Win,  I  should  be  so 
glad  to  come,  if  I  wouldn't  trouble  you!  " 

The  eyes  were  full  of  entreating  light. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  it  a  day  or  two.  And 
Recompense  is  quite  willing.  The  trouble  really  would 
be  hers,  you  know." 


150        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  I  would  try  and  not  make  any  trouble." 

"  Oh,  it  was  where  we  should  put  you  to  sleep  this  cold 
weather.  You  would  be  lost  in  the  great  guest  chamber. 
But  Recompense  arranged  it  all.  She  has  put  up  a  little 
cot  in  the  corner  of  her  room.  I  insisted  last  winter  that 
she  should  keep  a  fire;  she  is  a  little  troubled  with  rheu 
matism.  And  now  she  enjoys  the  warmth  very  much." 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  are!  " 

She  was  smiling  now  and  dancing  around  on  one  foot. 
He  smiled  too. 

"  Where's  Aunt  Elizabeth?  "  said  Uncle  Winthrop. 

Doris  ran  to  the  kitchen  and,  not  seeing  her,  made  the 
same  inquiry. 

"  She's  gone  up  to  the  storeroom  to  find  a  lot  of 
woolen  patches  for  me,  and  I'm  going  to  start  another 
quilt.  She  said  she'd  never  use  them  in  the  days  of 
creation,  and  they  wan't  but  six.  She'll  be  down  in  a 
minute,"  said  Martha. 

"  Uncle  Winthrop,"  going  back  to  him  beside  the  fire, 
and  wrinkling  up  her  brow  a  little,  "  is  not  Christmas 
truly  Christmas?  Has  anyone  made  a  mistake  about 
it?" 

"  My  child,  everybody  does  not  keep  it  in  the  same 
manner,  Sometime  you  will  learn  about  the  brave 
heroes  who  came  over  and  settled  in  a  strange  land, 
fought  Indians  and  wild  beasts,  and  then  fought  again 
for  liberty,  and  why  they  differed  from  their  brethren. 
But  I  always  keep  it;  and  I  thought  now  that  Betty  was 
gone  you  might  like  to  come  and  go  to  church  with  me." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  glad  to!  "  with  a  joyful  smile. 

Aunt  Elizabeth  entered.  Cousin  Winthrop  presented 
his  petition  that  he  should  take  Doris  over  this  after 
noon  and  bring  her  back  on  Wednesday,  unless  there 
was  to  be  no  school  all  the  week. 

"  I'm  afraid  she  will  bother  Recompense.     You're  so 


CONCERNING   MANY   THINGS.  151 

little  used  to  children,  I  keep  my  hand  in  with  grand 
children,"  smilingly. 

"  No  word  from  Betty  yet?  About  Doris  now — oh, 
you  need  not  be  afraid;  I  think  Recompense  is  quite  in 
the  notion." 

"  Well,  if  you  think  best.  Doris  isn't  a  mite  of 
trouble,  I  will  say  that.  No,  we  can't  hear  from  Betty 
before  to-morrow.  Mr.  Eastman  thought  likely  he'd 
find  someone  coming  right  back  from  Springfield,  and  I 
charged  Betty  to  send  if  she  could.  I'm  glad  there  has 
been  no  snow  so  far." 

"  Very  fair  winter  weather.  How  is  Foster  and  busi 
ness?" 

"  Desperately  dull,  both  of  them,"  and  Mrs.  Leverett 
gave  a  piquant  nod  that  would  have  done  Betty  credit. 

"  Go  get  your  other  clothes,  Doris,  and  Martha  will 
see  to  you.  And  two  white  aprons.  Recompense  keeps 
her  house  as  clean  as  a  pink,  and  you  couldn't  get  soiled 
if  you  rolled  round  the  floor.  But  dirt  doesn't  stick  to 
Doris.  There,  run  along,  child." 

Martha  scrubbed  her  rigorously,  and  then  helped  her 
dress.  She  came  back  bright  as  a  new  pin,  with  her  two 
high-necked  aprons  in  her  hand,  and  her  nightgown, 
which  Aunt  Elizabeth  put  in  her  big  black  camlet  bag. 

"  I  wish  you'd  see  that  she  studies  a  little,  Winthrop. 
She  is  so  behind  in  some  things." 

He  nodded.  Then  Doris  put  on  her  hood  and  cloak 
and  said  good-by  to  Martha,  while  she  kissed  Aunt 
Elizabeth  and  left  a  message  for  the  rest. 

"  It's  early,  so  we  will  take  a  little  ride  around,"  he 
said,  wrapping  her  up  snug  and  warm. 

The  plan  had  been  in  his  mind  for  several  days.  The 
evening  before  he  had  broached  it  to  Recompense.  Not 
but  what  he  was  master  in  his  own  house,  but  he  hardly 
knew  how  to  plan  for  a  child. 


152        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  If  Doris  was  a  boy  I  could  put  him  on  the  big  sofa  in 
my  room.  Still,  Cato  can  look  after  a  fire  in  the  guest 
chamber.  It  would  be  too  cruel  to  put  a  child  alone  in 
that  great  cold  barn." 

There  was  a  very  obstinate  impression  that  it  was 
healthy  to  sleep  in  cold  rooms,  so  people  shut  themselves 
up  pretty  close,  and  sometimes  drew  the  bedclothes  over 
their  heads.  But  Winthrop  Adams  had  a  rather  luxuri 
ous  side  to  his  nature;  he  called  it  a  premonition  of  old 
age.  He  kept  a  fire  in  his  dressing  room,  where  he  often 
sat  and  read  a  while  at  night.  His  sleeping  room  ad 
joined  it. 

"  Why,  we  might  bring  a  cot  in  my  room,"  she  said. 
"  I  remember  how  the  child  delights  in  a  fire.  She's 
such  a  delicate-looking  little  thing." 

"  She  is  standing  our  winter  very  well  and  goes  to 
school  every  day.  Fm  afraid  she  might  disturb  you?  " 

"  Not  if  she  has  a  bed  by  herself.  And  there  is  the 
corner  jog;  the  cot  will  just  fit  into  it." 

When  they  put  it  there  in  the  morning  it  looked  as  if 
it  must  have  taken  root  long  ago.  Then  Recompense 
arranged  a  nice  dressing  table  with  a  white  cover  and  a 
pretty  bowl  and  ewer,  and  a  low  chair  beside  it  covered 
with  chintz  cushions.  Her  own  high-post  bedstead  had 
curtains  all  around  it  of  English  damask,  and  the  curi 
ously  carved  high-back  chairs  had  cushions  tied  in  of 
the  same  material.  There  was  no  carpet  on  the  painted 
floor,  but  a  rug  beside  the  bed  and  one  at  the  stand,  and  a 
great  braided  square  before  the  fire.  It  was  a  well-fur 
nished  room  for  the  times,  though  that  of  Mr.  Adams  was 
rather  more  luxurious. 

He  was  very  glad  that  Recompense  had  assented  so 
readily,  for  he  was  beginning  to  feel  that  he  ought  to 
take  a  deeper  interest  in  his  little  ward. 

There  were  numberless  sleighs  out  on  some  of  the 


CONCERNING    MANY   THINGS.  153 

favorite  thoroughfares.  For  even  now,  in  spite  of  the 
complaints  of  hard  times,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  real 
wealth  in  Boston,  fine  equipages  with  colored  coachmen 
and  footmen.  There  were  handsome  houses  with  lawns 
and  gardens,  some  of  them  having  orchards  besides. 
There  were  rich  furnishings  as  well,  from  France  and 
England  and  from  the  East.  There  were  china  and  plate 
and  glass  proud  of  their  age,  having  come  through 
several  generations. 

And  though  there  were  shades  and  degrees  of  social 
position,  there  was  a  fine  breeding  among  the  richer 
people  and  a  kind  of  pride  among  the  poorer  ones. 
Tli ere  were  occasions  when  they  mingled  with  an  agree 
able  courtesy,  yet  each  side  kept  its  proper  and  dis 
tinctive  relations;  real  worth  was  respected  and  dignified 
living  held  in  esteem.  From  a  printer's  boy,  Benjamin 
Franklin  had  stood  before  kings  and  added  luster  to  his 
country.  From  a  farm  at  Braintree  had  come  one  of  the 
famous  Adamses  and  his  not  less  notable  wife,  who  had 
admirably  filled  the  position  of  the  first  lady  of  the 
land. 

Yet  the  odd,  narrow,  crooked  streets  of  a  hundred 
years  before  were  running  everywhere,  occasionally 
broadened  and  straightened.  There  were  still  wide 
spaces  and  pasture  fields,  declivities  where  the  barberry 
bush  and  locust  and  May  flower  grew  undisturbed. 
There  were  quaint  nooks  with  legends,  made  famous 
since  by  eloquent  pens;  there  were  curious  old  shops 
designated  by  queer  sign  and  symbols. 

But  even  the  pleasures  were  taken  in  a  leisurely,  digni 
fied  way.  There  was  no  wild  rush  to  stand  at  the  head 
or  to  outdo  a  neighbor,  or  astonish  those  who  might  be 
looking  on  and  could  not  participate. 

Doris  enjoyed  it  wonderfully.  She  had  a  sudden  ac 
cession  of  subtle  pride  when  some  fine  old  gentleman 


154        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

bowed  to  Uncle  Win,  or  a  sleigh  full  of  elegantly  attired 
ladies  smiled  and  nodded.  There  were  large  hats  fram 
ing  in  pretty  faces,  and  bows  and  nodding  plumes  on  the 
top  such  as  Mrs.  King  had  written  about.  Oh,  how 
lovely  Betty  would  look  in  hers!  What  was  Hartford 
like;  and  New  Haven,  with  its  college;  then,  farther 
on,  New  York;  and  Washington,  where  the  Presidents 
lived  while  they  held  office?  She  was  learning  so  many 
things  about  this  new  home. 

Over  here  on  the  Common  the  boys  were  drawn  up  in 
two  lines  and  snowballing  as  if  it  was  all  in  dead  earnest. 
And  this  was  the  rambling  old  house  with  its  big  porch 
and  stepping  block,  and  its  delightful  welcome. 

"  Are  you  not  most  frozen?  "  asked  Miss  Recompense. 
"  Here  is  the  fire  you  like  so  much.  Take  off  your 
cloak  and  hood.  We  are  very  glad  to  have  you  come 
and  make  us  a  visit." 

"  Oh,  are  you?  "  Doris'  face  was  a  gleam  of  delight. 
"And  I  am  glad  to  come.  I  was  beginning  to  feel 
dreadfully  lonesome  without  Betty.  I  ought  not  when 
there  were  so  many  left,"  and  a  bright  color  suffused  her 
face.  "  Then  there  is  little  James." 

"  And  we  have  no  small  people." 

"  I  never  had  any  over  home,  you  know.  And  so 
many  people  here  have  such  numbers  of  brothers  and 
sisters.  It  must  be  delightful." 

"  But  they  are  not  all  little  at  once." 

"  No,"  laughed  Doris.  "  I  should  like  to  be  some 
where  in  the  middle.  Babies  are  so  cunning,  when  they 
don't  cry." 

Miss  Recompense  smiled  at  that. 

There  was  a  comfortable  low  chair  for  Doris,  and 
Uncle  Win  found  her  seated  there,  the  ruddy  firelight 
throwing  up  her  face  like  a  painting.  Miss  Recompense 
went  out  to  see  about  the  supper.  There  was  a  good- 


CONCERNING   MANY   THINGS.  155 

natured  black  woman  in  the  kitchen  to  do  the  cooking, 
and  Cato,  who  did  the  outside  work  and  waited  on 
Dinah  and  Miss  Recompense — a  tall,  sedate,  rather  pom 
pous  colored  man. 

Some  indefinable  charm  about  the  house  appealed  to 
Doris.  The  table  was  arranged  in  such  an  attractive 
manner.  Nothing  could  be  more  delightful  than  Aunt 
Elizabeth's  cooking,  but  she  stopped  short  at  an  in 
visible  something.  The  china  was  saved  for  company, 
though  there  was  one  pretty  cup  they  always  gave  to 
Aunt  Priscilla.  The  everyday  dishes  were  earthen,  such 
as  ordinary  people  used,  and  being  of  rather  poor  glaze 
they  soon  checked.  Doris  knew  these  pretty  plates  and 
the  tall  cream  jug  and  sugar  dish  had  not  been  brought 
out  especially  for  her,  though  she  had  supposed  they 
were  when  they  all  came  over  to  a  company  tea. 

She  started  so  when  Uncle  Winthrop  addressed  her  in 
French,  and  glanced  at  him  in  amaze;  then  turned  to  a 
pink  glow  and  laughed  as  she  collected  her  scattered  wits 
to  answer. 

What  a  soft,  exquisite  accent  the  child  had!  Miss 
Recompense  paused  in  her  pouring  tea  to  listen. 

Uncle  Win  smiled  and  continued.  They  were  around 
the  pretty  tea  table  in  a  sort  of  triangle.  Uncle  Win 
passed  the  thin,  dainty  slices  of  bread.  Miss  Recom 
pense,  when  she  was  done  with  the  tea,  passed  the  cold 
chicken.  Then  there  were  cheese  and  two  kinds  of  pre 
serves,  plain  cake  and  fruit  cake. 

Children  rarely  drank  tea,  so  Doris  had  some  milk  in 
a  glass  which  was  cut  with  just  a  sparkle  here  and  there 
that  the  light  caught  and  made  brilliant. 

"  How  you  can  understand  any  such  talk  as  that  beats 
me,"  said  Miss  Recompense  in  a  sort  of  helpless  fashion 
as  she  glanced  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  And  if  we  were  abroad  talking  English   the  for- 


156        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

eigners  would  say  the  same  thing,"  replied  Mr. 
Adams. 

"  But  there  is  some  sense  in  English." 

He  laughed  a  little.  "  And  if  we  lived  in  China  we 
would  think  there  was  a  good  deal  of  sense  in  Chinese, 
which  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  queerest  languages  in  the 
world." 

We  did  not  know  very  much  about  China  in  those 
days,  and  our  knowledge  was  chiefly  gleaned  from  rather 
rude  maps  and  some  old  histories,  and  the  wonderful 
tales  of  sea  captains. 

"  It  would  be  a  pity  for  you  to  fall  back  when  you  are 
such  a  good  scholar,"  Uncle  Win  said,  looking  over  to 
Doris.  "  One  forgets  quite  easily.  I  find  I  am  a  little 
lame.  But  you  like  your  school,  and  it  is  near  by  this 
cold  weather.  Perhaps  you  and  I  can  keep  up  enough 
interest  to  exercise  our  memories.  You  have  some 
French  books?  " 

"  Two  or  three.  I  tried  to  read  '  Paul  and  Virginia ' 
to  Betty,  but  it  took  so  long  to  tell  the  story  over  that 
she  didn't  get  interested.  There  were  so  many  lessons, 
too." 

She  did  not  say  that  Aunt  Elizabeth  had  discounte 
nanced  it.  People  were  horrified  by  French  novels 
in  those  days.  Rousseau  and  Voltaire  had  been  held  in 
some  degree  responsible  for  the  terrible  French  Revolu 
tion.  And  people  shuddered  at  the  name  of  Tom  Paine. 

At  first  the  Colonies,  as  they  were  still  largely  called, 
had  been  very  much  interested  in  the  new  French  Repub 
lic.  Lafayette  had  been  so  impressed  with  the  idea  of  a 
government  of  the  people  when  he  had  lent  his  assistance 
to  America,  that  he  had  joined  heartily  in  a  plan  for  the 
regeneration  of  France.  But  after  the  king  was  exe 
cuted,  Sunday  abolished,  and  the  government  passed 
into  the  hands  of  tyrants  who  shouted  "  liberty  "  and 


CONCERNING   MANY   THINGS.  157 

yet  brought  about  the  slavery  of  terror,  he  and  many 
others  had  stood  aside — indeed,  left  their  beloved  city  to 
the  mob.  Then  had  come  the  first  strong  and  promis 
ing  theories  of  Napoleon.  He  had  been  first  Consul, 
then  Consul  for  life,  then  Emperor,  and  was  now  the 
scourge  of  Europe. 

To  Mrs.  Leverett  all  French  books  were  as  actors  and 
plays,  to  be  shunned.  That  any  little  girl  should  have 
read  a  French  story  or  be  able  to  repeat  French  verses 
was  quite  horrifying.  She  had  a  feeling  that  it  really  be 
littled  the  Bible  to  appear  in  the  French  language. 

"  Yes,"  returned  Uncle  Winthrop  assentingly.  He 
could  understand  the  situation,  for  he  knew  Mrs.  Lev- 
erett's  prejudices  were  very  strong,  and  continuous. 
That  she  was  a  thoroughly  good  and  upright  woman  he 
readily  admitted. 

The  supper  being  finished  they  went  to  the  cozy  hall 
fire  again.  You  had  to  sit  near  it  to  keep  comfortable, 
for  the  rooms  were  large  in  those  days  and  the  outer 
edges  chilly.  Some  people  were  putting  up  great 
stoves  in  their  halls  and  the  high  pipes  warmed  the  stairs 
and  all  around. 

Miss  Recompense  brought  out  some  knitting.  She 
was  making  a  spread  in  small  squares, — red,  white,  and 
blue, — and  it  would  be  very  fine  when  it  was  done. 
Doris  was  very  much  interested  when  she  laid  down  the 
squares  to  display  the  pattern. 

"  I  suppose  you  knit?  "  remarked  Miss  Recompense. 

"  No.  I  don't  know  how.  Betty  showed  me  a  little. 
And  Aunt  Elizabeth  is  going  to  teach  me  to  make  a 
stocking.  It  seems  very  easy  when  you  see  other  people 
do  it,"  and  Doris  sighed.  "  But  I  am  afraid  I  am  not 
very  smart  about  a  good  many  things  besides  tables." 

That  honest  admission  rather  annoyed  Uncle  Win. 
Elizabeth  had  said  it  as  well.  For  his  part  he  did  not 


158        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

see  that  reading  the  Bible  through  by  the  time  you  were 
eight  years  old  and  knitting  a  pile  of  stockings  was 
proof  of  extraordinary  ability. 

"  What  kind  of  fancy  work  can  you  do?  "  asked  Miss 
Recompense. 

"  I've  begun  a  sampler.  That  isn't  hard.  And  Miss 
Arabella  taught  me  to  hem  and  to  darn  and  to  make 
lace." 

"  Make  lace!     What  kind  of  lace?  " 

"  Like  the  beautiful  lace  Madam  Sheafe  makes.  Only 
I  never  did  any  so  wide.  But  Miss  Arabella  used  to. 
Betty  took  me  there  one  afternoon.  Madam  Sheafe  has 
such  a  lovely  little  house.  And,  oh,  Uncle  Win,  she  can 
talk  French  a  little." 

He  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  You  see,"  began  Doris  with  sweet  seriousness, 
"  there  was  no  one  to  make  shirts  for,  and  I  suppose  Miss 
Arabella  thought  it  wasn't  worth  while.  But  I  hemmed 
some  on  Uncle  Leverett's,  and  Aunt  Elizabeth  said  it 
was  very  nicely  done." 

"  I  dare  say."  She  looked  as  if  anything  she  under 
took  would  be  nicely  done,  Miss  Recompense  thought. 

"  Betty  was  learning  housekeeping  when  she  went 
to  Hartford.  I  think  that  is  very  nice.  To  make  pies 
and  bread  and  cake,  and  roast  chickens  and  turkeys  and 
everything.  But  little  girls  have  to  go  to  school  first. 
Six  years  is  a  long  time,  isn't  it?" 

A  half-smile  crossed  the  grave  face  of  Miss  Recom 
pense. 

"  It  seems  a  long  time  to  a  little  girl,  no  doubt,  but 
when  you  are  older  it  passes  very  rapidly.  There  are 
years  that  prove  all  too  short  for  the  work  crowded  in 
them,  and  then  they  begin  to  lengthen  again,  though  I 
suppose  that  is  because  we  no  longer  hurry  to  get  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  work  done." 


CONCERNING   MANY   THINGS.  159 

"  I  wish  the  afternoons  could  be  longer." 

"  They  will  be  in  May.  I  like  the  long  afternoons 
too,  though  the  winter  evenings  by  a  cheerful  fire  are 
very  enjoyable." 

"  The  world  is  so  beautiful,"  said  Doris,  "  that  you 
can  hardly  tell  which  you  do  like  best.  Only  the  sum 
mer,  with  its  flowers  and  the  sweet,  green  out-of-doors, 
fills  one  with  a  kind  of  thanksgiving.  Why  did  they  not 
have  Thanksgiving  in  the  summer?  " 

"  Because  we  give  thanks  for  a  bountiful  harvest." 

"  Oh,"  Doris  responded. 

Uncle  Winthrop  watched  her  as  she  chattered  on,  her 
voice  like  a  soft,  purling  rill.  Presently  Dinah  called 
Miss  Recompense  out  in  the  kitchen  to  consult  her  about 
the  breakfast,  for  she  went  to  bed  as  soon  as  she  had  the 
kitchen  set  to  rights.  Then  Doris  glanced  over  to  him 
in  a  shy,  asking  fashion,  and  brought  her  chair  to  his 
side.  He  inquired  about  Father  Langhorne,  and  found 
he  had  been  educated  in  Paris,  and  was  really  a  Roman 
priest. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  province  of  childhood  to  see  good 
in  everybody.  Or  was  it  due  to  the  simple  life,  the  ab 
sence  of  that  introspection,  which  had  already  done  so 
much  to  make  the  New  England  conscience  supersen- 
sitive  and  strenuous. 

When  Miss  Recompense  returned  she  found  them 
deep  in  French  again.  Doris  laughed  softly  when  Uncle 
Winthrop  blundered  a  little,  and  perhaps  he  did  it  now 
and  then  purposely. 

The  big  old  clock  that  said  "  Forever,  never!  "  long 
before  Longfellow's  time,  measured  off  nine  hours. 

"  It's  funny,"  said  Doris,  "  but  I'm  not  a  bit  sleepy, 
and  at  Uncle  Leverett's  I  almost  nod,  sometimes.  May 
be  it's  the  French." 

"  I  should  not  wonder,"  and  Uncle  Win  smiled. 


!6o        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  We  will  both  go — it  is  about  my  time,"  remarked 
Miss  Recompense.  "  Your  uncle  sits  up  all  hours  of  the 
night." 

"  And  would  like  to  sleep  all  hours  of  the  morning," 
he  returned  humorously,  "  but  Miss  Recompense  won't 
let  me.  If  she  raises  her  little  finger  the  whole  house 
moves." 

"  Then  she  doesn't  raise  it  very  often,"  said  that  lady. 
"  But  it  does  seem  a  sin  to  sleep  away  good  wholesome 
daylight." 

"  There  were  some  candlesticks  on  a  kind  of  secretary 
with  a  shelf-like  top,  and  she  lighted  one,  stepping  out 
in  the  kitchen  to  see  that  all  was  safe  and  to  bid  Cato 
lock  up.  When  she  returned  the  candle  was  sending 
out  its  cheerful  beam,  so  she  nodded  to  Doris,  who  said 
good-night  to  Uncle  Winthrop  and  followed  her. 

Doris  had  an  odd,  company-like  feeling.  Her  little  bed 
was  pretty,  and  the  room  had  a  fragrance  of  summer 
time,  of  roses  and  lavender.  Miss  Recompense  stirred 
the  fire  and  put  on  a  big  log.  Then  she  sat  down  by 
the  stand  and  read  her  nightly  chapter,  turning  a  little 
to  give  Doris  a  kind  of  privacy. 

"  I  hope  you  will  sleep  well.  Your  uncle  thought 
you  would  be  lonesome  in  the  guest  chamber." 

"  I  would  ever  so  much  rather  be  here.  And  the  bed 
is  so  small  and  cunning,  just  the  bed  for  a  little  girl. 
Thank  you  ever  so  many  times." 

She  said  her  prayers  and  breathed  a  soft  good-night 
to  the  fire.  And  though  she  did  not  feel  strange  nor 
sleepy,  and  wondered  about  Betty  and  a  dozen  other 
things,  one  of  the  last  remembrances  was  the  glimmer  of 
the  candle  on  the  wall,  and  the  soft  rustling  of  the  blaze, 
that  said  "  Snow,  snow,  snow." 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  161 

CHAPTER    XL 

A    LITTLE    CHRISTMAS. 

C  URE  enough,  it  snowed  the  next  morning — one  of  the 
**^  soft,  clinging  storms  that  loaded  every  branch  with 
a  furry  aspect,  made  mounds  of  the  shrubs,  and  wrapped 
the  south  sides  of  the  houses  with  a  mantle  of  dazzling 
whiteness.  Now  and  then  a  patch  fell  off,  and  a  long 
pendant  would  swing  from  the  trees,  and  finally  drop. 
It  was  a  delight  to  see  them. 

The  breakfast  was  laid  on  the  same  small  table  in  use 
last  night,  but  Cato  brought  in  everything  hot,  and 
"  waited  "  as  Barby  used  at  home.  Uncle  Winthrop  said 
she  looked  bright  as  a  rose,  and  her  cheeks  had  a  deli 
cate  pink. 

Afterward  he  invited  her  in  his  study  and  told  her  she 
might  look  about  and  perhaps  find  a  book  to  entertain 
herself  with  while  he  wrote  some  letters. 

"  Thank  you.     I  hope  I  shall  not  disturb  you." 

"  Oh,  no."  He  felt  somehow  he  could  answer  for  her. 
She  was  so  gentle  in  her  movements,  and  he  really 
wanted  to  see  how  he  liked  having  a  little  girl  about. 
There  was  a  vague  idea  in  his  mind  that  he  might  decide 
to  have  her  here  some  day,  since  Miss  Recompense  had 
taken  a  sort  of  fancy  to  her. 

Oh,  what  a  luxury  it  was  to  wander  softly  about  and 
read  titles  and  look  at  bindings  and  speculate  on  what 
she  would  like!  They  had  very  few  books  at  Uncle  Lev- 
erett's.  Some  volume  of  sermons,  a  few  biographies 
that  she  had  found  rather  dreary,  a  history  of  the  French- 
Canadian  War,  and  some  of  Poor  Richard's  Almanacs, 
which  she  thought  the  most  amusing  of  all. 

There  was  a,  circulating  library  that  Warren  patronized 


162        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD    BOSTON. 

occasionally.  There  was  also  the  nucleus  of  a  free 
library,  but  so  far  people  had  been  too  busy  to  think 
much  about  reading,  except  the  scholarly  minds.  Books 
were  expensive,  too,  and  very  few  persons  accumulated 
any  stock  of  them.  Of  Mr.  Adams'  collection  some  had 
come  to  him  from  his  father,  and  Cousin  Charles,  who 
had  been  called  a  "  queer  stick,"  had  some  English, 
Latin,  and  Italian  poets  that  he  had  bequeathed  to  the 
book  lover. 

Winthrop  Adams  was  a  collector  of  several  things  be 
side  books.  Now  and  then  at  an  auction  sale  on  some 
one's  death  he  picked  up  odd  articles  that  were  of  value. 
And  so  his  study  was  a  kind  of  conglomerate.  He  had  a 
cabinet  of  coins  from  different  parts  of  the  world  and 
curios  from  India  and  Egypt.  Napoleon's  campaign  in 
Egypt  had  awakened  a  good  deal  of  interest  in  the  coun 
try  of  the  Pharaohs. 

Doris  was  so  still  he  glanced  around  presently.  She 
was  curled  up  in  the  corner  of  the  chimney,  a  book  on 
her  knees  and  her  head  bent  over  until  the  curls  fell 
about  her  in  a  cloud.  When  Elizabeth  had  spoken  of  the 
benefit  it  might  be  to  a  growing  child  to  have  them  cut 
he  had  protested  at  once.  They  were  rarely  beautiful,  he 
decided  now,  gleaming  gold  in  the  firelight. 

She  had  a  feeling  presently  that  someone  was  looking 
at  her,  so  she  raised  her  head,  shook  away  the  curls,  and 
smiled. 

"  Did  you  find  something?  " 

"  '  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield/  Uncle  Winthrop.  Oh,  it 
is  delightful!  You  said  I  might  read  anything!"  with 
a  touch  of  hesitation. 

"  That  was  quite  a  wide  permission,"  and  he  smiled. 
He  couldn't  see  how  that  would  hurt  anyone,  but  he  was 
not  sure  of  a  girl's  reading. 

"  I  opened  it  at  a  picture — '  Preparing  Moses  for  the 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  163 

Fair.'  It  made  me  think  of  Betty  going  to  Hartford.  It 
was  so  interesting  to  wonder  what  you  would  do,  and 
then  to  have  things  happen  just  right.  Aunt  Priscilla 
was  so  nice.  I  thought  I  couldn't  like  her  at  first,  but  I 
do  now.  You  can't  find  out  all  about  anyone  in  a 
minute,  can  you?" 

"  I  think  not,"  rather  humorously. 

"  So  then  I  turned  to  the  first  of  the  book.  And  the 
Vicar's  wife  must  have  known  a  good  deal  to  read  with 
out  much  spelling.  There  are  some  awful  hard  words  in 
the  back  of  Betty's  spelling  book.  Do  you  suppose  she 
learned  tables  and  all  that?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  she  did." 

"  And  she  could  keep  house." 

"  They  were  a  notable  couple." 

He  took  up  his  pen  again  and  she  turned  to  her  book. 

Suddenly  a  flood  of  golden  sunshine  poured  across  the 
floor,  fairly  dimming  the  fire. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Winthrop!"  With  her  book  pressed 
tightly  against  her  body,  she  flew  over  to  the  window  like 
a  bird,  disturbing  nothing,  and  making  only  a  soft  flutter. 

"Isn't  it  glorious!" 

The  edges  of  the  snow  everywhere  were  illumined  with 
the  prismatic  rays  in  proper  order.  The  tree  branches 
caught  them,  the  corners  of  the  houses,  the  window 
hoods,  the  straggling  bushes,  the  fences.  Everywhere 
the  sublime  beauty  was  repeated  until  everything  quiv 
ered  with  the  excess. 

"  It  is  like  the  New  Jerusalem,"  she  said. 

The  air  had  softened  a  great  deal.  The  sun  on  the 
window  panes  spoke  of  latent  warmth.  A  slight  breeze 
stirred  the  air,  and  down  came  the  clinging  snow  in 
showers,  leaving  the  trees  bare  and  brown,  except  the 
few  evergreens. 

"  It  is  warmer,"  Mr.  Adams  said.     "  Though  it  is  near- 


164        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

ing  noon,  the  warmest  part  of  the  day.  And  so  far  you 
have  stood  the  cold  weather  very  well,  little  Doris,"  smil 
ing  down  in  the  eager  face. 

"  I've  snowballed  too,  and  it  is  real  fun.  I  can  slide 
ever  so  far,  and  I've  ridden  on  Jimmie  boy's  sled.  Betty 
thinks  I  would  soon  learn  to  skate.  I  would  like  to  very 
much." 

"Then  you  must  have  some  skates." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  Betty  may  not  come  home  in  time  to 
teach  me." 

"  Someone  else  might." 

"  Do  you  skate?  "  in  soft  inquiry. 

"  Not  now;  I  used  to.  But  I  am  not  a  young  man, 
and  not  very  energetic.  I  like  warm  firesides  and  a  nice 
book.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  make  an  ease-loving  old  man." 

"  But  isn't  it  right  to  be  " — what  word  would  express 
it? — "  happy,  comfortable?  For  why  should  you  try  to 
make  anyone  happy  if  it  was  wrong? 

"  It  is  not  wrong." 

The  sky  was  very  blue  now,  and  the  snow  began  to 
have  an  ethereal  look.  Cato  came  out  to  shovel  and 
clear  away  some  paths.  He  struck  the  young  hemlocks 
and  firs  with  a  stick  and  beat  the  snow  out  of  them. 

"  The  snow  settles  in  the  branches  and  sometimes 
freezes  and  that  kills  a  little  place,"  said  Uncle  Winthrop 
in  answer  to  the  questioning  eyes. 

They  walked  back  to  the  table,  with  his  arm  over  her 
shoulder. 

"  I  am  done  my  writing  for  to-day,"  he  began.  "  I 
wonder  if  you  would  mind  answering  a  few  questions?" 

"  Oh,  no — if  I  knew  the  answers,"  smilingly. 

"  Then  tell  me  first  of  all  how  far  you  went  in  Latin. 
This  is  a  grammar." 

She  turned  some  leaves.  "  I  didn't  know  it  very  well," 
skimming  over  the  pages.  "  It  was  not  like  this  book, 


A  LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  165 

and  " — hanging  her  head  a  little — "  I  did  not  like  it — 
that  and  the  sums." 

"  Who  put  you  to  studying  it?  " 

"  Oh,  the  father  did.  He  said  Latin  was  the  key  to 
all  other  languages.  I  wonder  how  many  I  shall  have  to 
learn?  Miss  Arabella  said  it  was  foolishness,  except  the 
French." 

"  Let  me  hear  you  read  a  little.     This  is  not  difficult." 

He  was  not  sure  there  was  any  call  for  a  girl  to  know 
Latin.  French  seemed  quite  necessary. 

She  began  in  a  hesitating  manner  and  blundered  some 
what  at  first,  but  as  she  went  on  gained  courage,  her 
voice  growing  firmer  and  clearer. 

"  Why,  that  is  very  well.  You  ought  to  be  at  a  higher 
school  than  Mrs.  Webb's.  And  now  let  us  consider  these 
dreadful  sums.  The  paper  and  a  pencil  will  do." 

He  put  down  quite  a  sum  in  addition.  There  were 
several  nines  and  sevens  in  it. 

She  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  It  is  a  big  sum.     I  haven't  done  any  as  large  as  that." 

"  Well,  begin.     Add  as  I  call  them  off." 

Alas!  After  three  figures,  in  puzzling  over  an  eight, 
the  amount  went  out  of  her  mind  and  she  had  to  begin 
again.  Uncle  Winthrop  made  a  mark  at  one  figure  and 
put  down  the  amount  beside  it.  After  a  while  she  reached 
the  top  of  the  column.  Clearly  heaven  had  not  meant 
her  for  a  mathematician.  There  was  no  rapport  between 
her  figures. 

Her  eyes  were  limpid,  almost  as  if  there  were  tears  in 
them. 

"  Maybe  that  was  pretty  difficult  for  a  little  girl.  I 
know  most  about  big  boys  and  young  men." 

"  Betty  just  guesses,  this  way — eight  and  nine,  and  it 
comes  quite  as  easy  as  if  I  had  said  two  and  three  are 
five." 


i66        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

Uncle  Win  gave  his  gentle  smile  and  it  comforted  her 
greatly. 

"  This  quickness  comes  by  practice.  When  you  have 
had  six  years'  study  you  may  know  as  much  as  Betty  in 
arithmetic,  and  you  will  know  more  in  some  other 
branches." 

"  If  I  can  just  know  as  much,"  she  said  wistfully. 

Cato  gave  a  gentle  rap  on  the  open  door. 

"  Juno's  ready,"  he  announced.  "  Will  master  take 
little  missy  out,  or  shall  I  go  for  Master  Gary?  " 

"  I  had  not  thought.     Would  you  like  to  go,  Doris?  " 

Her    eyes    answered    him    before    she    could    speak. 

"  You  may  put  in  the  other  seat,  Cato,  and  drive." 

Cato  bowed  in  a  dignified  manner. 

"  Now  run  and  bundle  up  well,"  said  Uncle  Win. 

Miss  Recompense  seemed  to  know  a  good  deal  about 
little  girls,  if  she  had  none  of  her  own.  She  tied  a  soft 
silk  kerchief  over  Doris'  ears  before  she  put  on  her  hood. 
Then  she  told  Dinah  to  slip  the  soapstone  in  the  foot- 
stove,  and  drew  the  long  stockings  up  over  her  knees. 

"  Now  you  could  go  up  to  Vermont  and  not  get  cold," 
she  said  pleasantly. 

But  after  all  it  was  not  so  very  cold.  The  sun  shone 
in  golden  magnificence  and  almost  dazzled  your  eyes  out. 
Uncle  Win  had  on  his  smoked  glasses,  and  he  looked 
very  queer,  but  she  saw  other  people  with  this  protection. 
Some  of  the  glasses  were  green. 

The  streets  were  really  merry.  Children  were  out 
with  sleds,  and  snowballing  parties  were  in  the  field. 
They  went  over  to  State  Street  for  the  mail.  Cato 
sprang  out  and  returned  with  quite  a  budget.  There 
was  one  English  letter  with  a  big  black  seal,  but  Mr. 
Adams  covered  it  quickly  with  the  papers  and  drew  the 
package  under  the  buffalo  robe. 

There  was  a  quaint  old  bookstore  in  Cornhill  with  the 


A   LITTLE    CHRISTMAS.  167 

sign  of  Heart  and  Crown,  that  was  quite  a  meeting  place 
for  students  and  bookish  people,  and  they  drove  thither. 
A  young  lad  came  running  out,  making  a  bow  and  greet 
ing  his  father  politely.  To  have  said  "  Hillo!  "  in  those 
days  would  have  been  horrifying.  And  to  have  called 
one's  father  the  "  governor  "  or  the  "  old  gentleman  " 
would  have  been  little  short  of  a  crime. 

"  This  is  the  little  English  cousin,  Doris  Adams,"  said 
Uncle  Win,  "  and  this  is  my  son  Cary." 

Cary  made  a  bow  to  her  and  said  he  was  glad  to  meet 
her,  then  inquired  after  his  father's  health  and  stepped 
into  the  sleigh,  picking  up  the  reins  and  motioning  Cato 
to  the  other  side. 

Oh, how  they  spun  along!  Cary  said  one  or  two  things, 
but  the  words  were  carried  away  by  the  wind.  There 
were  sleighs  full  of  ladies  and  children,  great  family  affairs 
with  three  seats ;  there  were  cutters  with  some  portly  man 
and  a  black  driver;  there  were  well-known  people  and 
unknown  people  who  were  to  come  to  the  fore  in  a  few 
years  and  be  famous. 

For  Boston  was  throbbing  even  then  with  the  mighty 
changes  transforming  her  into  a  great  city.  Although 
she  had  suffered  severely  at  the  first  of  the  war  and  held 
many  priceless  memories  of  it,  the  early  evacuation  of  the 
town  had  left  her  free  for  domestic  matters,  which  had 
prospered  despite  poverty  and  hard  times  and  the  great 
loss  of  population.  Many  of  the  old  Tory  families  had 
returned  to  England,  and  the  remnants  of  the  provincial 
aristocracy  were  being  lessened  by  death  and  absorbed 
by  marriage.  The  squires  and  gentry  of  the  small  towns, 
most  of  them  intense  patriots,  had  filled  their  places  and 
given  tone  to  social  life,  that  was  still  formal,  if  some  of 
the  old  stateliness  had  slipped  away. 

The  French  Revolution  had  brought  about  some  other 
changes.  The  State  possessed  fine  advantages  for  mari- 


168       A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

time  commerce,  and  all  the  seaports  were  veritable  hives 
of  industry  in  the  early  part  of  the  century.  This  laid 
a  foundation  of  respect  for  fortunes  acquired  by  energy 
rather  than  inheritance.  The  United  States,  being  the 
only  neutral  nation  in  the  fierce  conflicts  raging  round 
the  world,  had  been  reaping  a  rich  harvest  for  several 
years.  Sea  captains  and  merchants  had  been  thriving 
splendidly  until  the  last  year  or  two,  when  seizures  began 
to  be  made  by  the  British  Government  that  roused  a  fer 
ment  of  warlike  spirit  again. 

But  while  men  talked  politics  the  women  and  those 
who  thought  it  wiser  to  take  neither  side,  still  amused 
themselves  with  card  parties,  tea  parties  and  dances, 
with  now  and  then  an  evening  at  the  theater,  and  driv 
ing.  There  were  so  many  fine  long  roads  not  yet  cut  up 
into  blocks  that  were  great  favorites  on  a  day  like  this. 
Doris  felt  the  exhilaration  and  her  eyes  shone  like 
stars. 

Presently  Gary  turned,  and  here  they  were  at  Common 
Street. 

"  That  has  been  fine !  "  he  began  as  he  drew  up  to  the 
door.  "  It  sets  your  blood  all  a-sparkle.  Have  I  taken 
your  breath  away,  little  cousin?  " 

He  came  around  and  offered  his  hand  to  his  father. 
Then  he  lifted  Doris  as  if  she  had  been  a  feather,  and 
stood  her  on  the  broad  porch.  That  recalled  Warren 
Leverett  to  her  mind. 

"  It  was  splendid,"  answered  Doris. 

They  all  walked  in  together,  and  Gary  shook  hands 
cordially  with  Miss  Recompense. 

He  was  almost  as  tall  as  his  father,  with  a  fair,  boyish 
face  and  thick  light  hair  that  did  not  curl,  but  tumbled 
about  and  was  always  falling  over  his  forehead. 

Warren  was  stouter  and  had  more  color,  and  there  was 
a  kind  of  laughing  expression  to  his  face.  Gary's  had  a 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  169 

certain  resolution  and  that  loftiness  we  are  given  to  call 
ing  aristocratic. 

When  Doris  had  carried  the  footstove  to  Dinah,  and 
her  own  wraps  upstairs,  she  stood  for  a  moment  uncer 
tain.  Gary  and  his  father  were  talking  eagerly  in  the 
study,  so  she  sat  down  by  the  hall  fire  and  began  to 
think  about  the  Vicar  and  Mrs.  Primrose,  and  wanted  to 
know  what  Moses  did  at  the  Fair.  She  had  been  at  one 
town  fair,  but  she  could  not  recall  much  besides  the 
rather  quaintly  and  gayly  dressed  crowd.  Then  there 
was  a  summons  to  supper. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Gary,  "  sit  still  a  moment.  You  look  like 
a  page  of  Mother  Goose.  You  can't  be  Miss  Muffet,  for 
you  have  no  curds  and  whey,  and  you  are  not  Jack 
Horner " 

She  sprang  up  then  and  caught  Uncle  Winthrop's 
hand.  "  Nor  Mother  Goose,"  she  rejoined  laugh 
ingly. 

The  plates  were  moved  just  a  little.  Gary  sat  between 
her  and  his  father. 

"  I  have  heard  quite  a  good  deal  about  you,"  he  began. 
"  Are  you  French  or  English?  " 

She  caught  a  tiny  gleam  in  Uncle  Win's  eye,  and 
gravely  answered  in  French. 

"  How  do  you  get  along  there  in  Sudbury  Street? 
Who  does  the  talking?  "  he  asked  in  surprise. 

"  We  all  talk,"  she  answered. 

He  flushed  a  little  and  then  gave  an  amused  nod. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  are  not  slow,  if  the  weather  is 
cold.  And  you  parles-vous  like  a  native.  Now,  if  you 
and  father  want  to  say  anything  bad  about  me,  you  may 
hope  to  keep  it  a  secret,  but  I  warn  you  that  I  can  under 
stand  French  to  some  extent." 

"  I  shall  not  say  anything  bad,"  she  returned  naively. 
Adding,  "  Why,  I  don't  know  anything  bad." 


170        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Recompense,  isn't  it  nice  to  be  perfect  in 
someone's  eyes?  "  he  laughed. 

"  Wait  until  she  has  known  you  several  years." 

"  But  you  have  known  me  several  years,"  appealingly. 

"  It  is  best  to  begin  with  an  unbiased  opinion." 

"  I  shall  get  Betty  to  speak  a  good  word  for  me.  You 
have  confidence  in  Betty?  " 

"  I  love  Betty,"  Doris  said  simply. 

"  And  Boston.  That  begins  with  a  B  too.  You 
must  love  Boston,  and  the  State  of  Massachusetts,  and 
the  whole  United  States.  And  if  there  comes  another 
war  you  must  be  true  to  the  flag  and  the  country.  No 
skipping  off  to  England,  mind." 

"  I  couldn't  skip  across  the  whole  Atlantic." 

"  Then  you  would  have  to  stay.  Which  is  the  nicest, 
Sudbury  Street  or  this?  " 

"  Gary,  you  have  teased  enough,"  said  his  father. 

"  I  think  the  out-of-doors  of  this  will  be  the  prettiest 
in  the  summer,"  replied  Doris  gravely,  "  and  when  I 
came  off  the  ship  I  thought  the  indoors  in  Sudbury 
Street  just  delightful.  There  was  such  a  splendid  fire, 
and  everybody  was  so  kind." 

Gary  glanced  up  at  his  father,  who  gave  his  soft  half- 
smile. 

"  You  were  a  brave  little  girl  not  to  be  homesick." 

"  I  did  want  to  see  Miss  Arabella,  and  the  pony.  I 
had  such  a  darling  pony." 

"  Why,  you  can  have  a  pony  next  summer,"  said  Uncle 
Win.  "  I  am  very  fond  of  riding." 

Doris'  face  was  filled  with  speechless  delight. 

After  supper  they  sat  round  the  fire  and  Gary  asked 
her  about  the  Old  Boston.  She  had  very  good  descrip 
tive  powers.  Her  life  had  been  so  circumscribed  there 
that  it  had  deepened  impressions,  and  the  young  fellow 
listened  quite  surprised.  Like  his  father  he  had  known 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  171 

very  little  about  girls  in  their  childhood.  She  was  so 
quaintly  pretty,  too,  with  the  bow  of  dark  ribbon  high 
up  on  her  head,  amid  the  waving  light  hair. 

Some  time  after  Uncle  Winthrop  said : 

"  Doris,  I  have  a  letter  from  Miss  Arabella.  Would 
you  not  like  to  come  in  the  study  and  read  it?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  and  she  sprang  up  with  the  lightness  of  a 
bird. 

He  had  cut  around  the  great  black  seal.  Sometime 
Doris  might  be  glad  to  have  the  letter  intact.  There 
were  no  envelopes  then  besides  those  used  for  state 
purposes. 

"  Dear  and  Respected  Sir,"  it  began  in  the  formal,  old- 
fashioned  manner.  She  had  been  rejoiced  to  hear  of 
Doris'  safe  arrival  and  continued  good  health,  and  every 
day  she  saw  the  wisdom  of  the  change,  though  she  had 
missed  the  child  sorely.  Her  sister  had  passed  peace 
fully  away  soon  after  the  departure  of  Doris,  a  loss  to  be 
accepted  with  resignation,  since  her  life  on  earth  had  long 
ceased  to  have  any  satisfaction  to  herself.  Her  own 
health  was  very  much  broken,  and  she  knew  it  would  not 
be  long  before  she  should  join  those  who  had  preceded 
her  in  a  better  land.  When  this  occurred  there  would 
be  some  articles  forwarded  to  him  for  Doris,  and  again 
she  commended  the  little  girl  to  his  affectionate  interest 
and  care,  and  hoped  she  would  grow  into  a  sweet  and 
useful  womanhood  and  be  all  her  parents  could  wish  if 
they  had  lived. 

"  Dear  Miss  Arabella!  "  Doris  wiped  the  tears  from 
her  eyes.  How  strange  the  little  room  must  look  with 
out  Miss  Henrietta  sitting  at  the  window  babbling  of 
childish  things!  "And  she  is  all  alone  with  Barby. 
How  sad  it  must  be.  I  should  not  like  to  live  alone." 

Unconsciously  she  drew  nearer  Uncle  Winthrop.  He 
put  his  arm  over  her  shoulder  in  a  caressing  manner,  and 


172        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

his  heart  was  moved  with  sympathy  for  the  solitary  lady 
across  the  ocean. 

Doris  thought  of  Aunt  Priscilla  and  wondered  whether 
she  ever  was  lonesome. 

Sunday  was  still  bright,  and  somehow  felt  warm  when 
contrasted  with  the  biting  weather  of  the  last  ten  days. 
The  three  went  to  old  Trinity  Church,  that  stood  then  on 
a  corner  of  Summer  Street — a  plain  wooden  building 
with  a  gambrel  roof,  quite  as  old-fashioned  inside  as  out, 
and  even  now  three-quarters  of  a  century  old.  Up  to  the 
Revolution  the  king  and  the  queen,  when  there  was  one, 
had  been  prayed  for  most  fervently.  The  Church  con 
ceded  this  point  reluctantly,  since  there  were  many  who 
doubted  the  success  of  the  struggle.  But  the  clergy  had 
resigned  from  King's  Chapel  and  Christ  Church.  For  a 
long  while  afterward  Dr.  Mather  Byles  had  kept  himself 
before  the  people  by  his  wit  and  readiness  for  controversy, 
and  the  two  old  ladies,  his  sisters,  were  well  known  for 
their  adherence  to  Royalist  costumes  and  the  unction 
with  which  they  prayed  for  the  king  in  their  own  house — 
with  open  windows,  in  summer. 

In  fact,  even  now  Episcopalianism  was  considered 
rather  foreign  than  of  a  home  growth.  But  there  had 
been  such  a  divergence  from  the  old-time  faiths  that 
people's  prejudices  were  much  softened. 

It  seemed  quite  natural  again  to  Doris,  and  she  had 
no  difficulty  in  finding  her  places,  though  Gary  offered 
her  his  prayer  book  every  time.  And  it  sounded  so 
hearty  to  say  "  Amen  "  to  the  prayers,  to  respond  to  the 
commandments,  and  sing  some  of  the  old  chants. 

There  was  a  short  service  in  the  afternoon,  and  in  the 
evening  she  and  Cary  sang  hymns.  They  were  getting 
to  be  very  good  friends.  Then  on  Christmas  morning 
they  all  went  again.  There  was  a  little  "  box  and  fir," 
and  a  branch  of  hemlock  in  the  corner,  but  the  people  of 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  173 

that  day  would  have  been  horrified  at  the  greenery  and 
the  flowers  met  to  hail  the  birth  of  Christ  to-day. 

They  paused  in  the  vestibule  to  give  each  other  a  cor 
dial  greeting,  for  the  congregation  was  not  very  large. 

A  fine-looking  elderly  lady  shook  hands  with  Mr. 
Adams  and  his  son. 

"  This  is  my  little  niece  from  abroad,"  announced  the 
elder,  "  another  of  the  Adams  family.  Her  father  was 
own  nephew  to  Cousin  Charles.  Doris,  this  is  Madam 
Royall." 

"  Poor  Charles.  Yes,  I  remember  him  well.  Our 
children  spied  out  the  little  girl  in  the  sleigh  with  you 
on  Saturday,  and  made  no  end  of  guesses.  Is  it  the  child 
who  attends  Mrs.  Webb's  school?  Dorcas  Payne  goes 
there  this  winter,  and  she  has  been  teasing  to  have  her 
name  changed  to  Doris,  which  she  admires  beyond 
measure." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Doris  timidly,  as  Madam  Royall 
seemed  addressing  her.  "  I  know  Dorcas  Payne." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Adams,  I  have  just  thought — our  children 
are  going  to  have  a  little  time  to-night — not  anything  as 
pretentious  as  a  party,  a  sort  of  Christmas  frolic.  Will 
you  not  come  around  and  bring  Cary  and  the  little  girl? 
You  shall  have  some  Christmas  cake  and  wine  with  us, 
Cary  can  take  tea  with  Isabel  and  Alice,  and  the  little 
girl  can  have  a  good  romp.  Please  do  not  refuse." 

Cary  flushed.     Mr.  Adams  looked  undecided. 

"  No,  you  shall  not  hunt  about  for  an  excuse.  Dorcas 
has  talked  so  much  about  the  little  girl  that  we  are  all 
curious  to  see  her.  Shouldn't  you  like  a  frolic  with 
other  little  girls,  my  dear?  " 

Doris  smiled  with  assenting  eagerness. 

"  We  shall  surely  look  for  you.  I  shall  tell  them  all 
that  you  are  coming,  and  that  I  have  captured  little 
Doris  Adams," 


174        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Very  well,"  returned  Mr.  Adams. 

"At  four,  exactly.    The  children's  supper  is  at  five." 

Doris  had  tight  hold  of  Uncle  Winthrop's  hand,  and 
if  she  had  not  just  come  out  of  church  she  must  have 
skipped  for  very  gladness.  For  Dorcas  Payne  had 
talked  about  her  cousins,  the  Royalls,  and  their  charm 
ing  grandmother,  and  the  good  times  they  had  in  their 
fine  large  house. 

Uncle  Win  looked  her  all  over  as  she  sat  at  the  din 
ner  table.  She  was  a  pretty  child,  with  her  hair  gath 
ered  up  high  and  falling  in  a  golden  shower.  Her  frock 
was  some  gray  woolen  stuff,  and  he  wondered  vaguely  if 
blue  or  red  would  have  been  better.  He  had  seen  little 
girls  in  red  frocks;  they  looked  so  warm  and  comfortable 
in  winter.  Elizabeth  Leverett  would  be  shocked  at  the 
color,  he  knew.  What  made  so  many  women  afraid  of 
it,  and  why  did  they  cling  to  dismal  grays  and  browns? 
He  wished  he  knew  a  little  more  about  girls. 

They  had  a  splendid  young  goose  for  the  Christmas 
dinner,  vegetables  and  pickles  and  jellies.  Cider  was 
used  largely  then;  no  hearty  dinner  would  have  been  the 
thing  without  it.  Even  the  Leveretts  used  that,  while 
they  frowned  on  all  other  beverages.  And  then  the  thick 
mince  pie  with  a  crust  that  fairly  melted  before  you  could 
chew  it!  One  needed  something  to  sustain  him 
through  the  long  cold  winter,  and  the  large  rooms  where 
you  shivered  if  you  went  out  of  the  chimney  corner. 

Doris  stole  a  little  while  for  her  enchanting  Primrose 
people,  though  Gary  kept  teasing  by  saying:  "Has 
Moses  gone  to  the  Fair?  Just  wait  until  you  see  the 
sort  of  bargains  he  makes ! " 

Uncle  Winthrop  went  out  to  Miss  Recompense. 

"  She  looks  very  plain  for  a  little — well,  I  suppose  it  is 
a  party,  and  I  dare  say  there  is  another  frock  at  the  Lev 
eretts'.  I  think  the  first  time  I  saw  her  she  had  on  some- 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  175 

thing  very  pretty — silk,  I  believe  it  was.  But  there  is  no 
time  to  get  it.  Recompense,  if  you  could  find  a  ribbon 
or  any  suitable  adornment  to  brighten  her  up.  In  that 
big  bureau  upstairs — I  wish  you  would  look." 

Years  ago  the  pretty  things  had  been  laid  away. 
Recompense  went  over  them  every  spring  during  house- 
cleaning  time,  to  see  that  moths  had  not  disturbed  them. 
Thieves  were  never  thought  of.  She  always  touched 
them  with  a  delicate  regard  for  the  young  wife  she  had 
never  known. 

She  put  a  shawl  about  her  now  and  went  upstairs,  un 
locked  the  drawer  of  "  trinkets,"  and  peered  into  some  of 
the  boxes.  Oh,  here  was  a  pretty  bit  of  lace,  simple 
enough  for  a  child.  White  ribbons  turned  to  cream, 
pale-blue  grown  paler  with  age,  stiff  brocaded  ones,  and 
down  at  the  very  bottom  a  rose  color  with  just  a  simple 
silvery  band  crossing  it  at  intervals.  There  was  enough 
for  a  sash  and  a  bow  for  the  hair,  and  with  the  lace 
tucker  it  would  be  all  right. 

"  Doris,"  she  called  over  the  baluster. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  and  Doris  came  tripping  up,  book  in 
hand. 

"  Your  uncle  wants  you  fixed  up  a  bit,"  she  said,  "  and 
as  you  have  nothing  here  I  have  looked  up  a  few  things. 
Let  me  fasten  the  tucker  in  your  frock.  There,  that  does 
look  better.  Madam  Royall  is  quite  dressy,  like  all  fash 
ionable  people  who  go  out  and  have  company.  I'm  not 
much  of  a  hand  to  fix  up  children,  seeing  that  for  years 
I  have  had  none  of  it  to  do.  But  I  guess  I  can  manage 
to  tie  the  sash.  There,  I  think  that  will  do." 

"Oh,  how  lovely!  How  good  of  you,  Miss  Recom 
pense." 

Recompense  Gardiner  hated  to  take  the  credit  for 
anything  she  had  not  done,  but  she  had  to  let  it  go 
now. 


176        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  How  to  get  this  ribbon  in  your  hair !  I  think  it  is 
too  wide." 

"  Oh,  can  I  have  that  too?  Well,  you  see,  you  take 
up  the  curls  this  way  and  put  the  ribbon  under.  Can  it 
be  folded?  Then  you  tie  it  on  the  top." 

Miss  Recompense  did  not  make  a  very  artistic  bow, 
but  Doris  looked  in  the  glass  of  the  dressing  table,  and 
pulled  and  patted  it  a  little,  and  said  it  was  right  and  that 
she  was  a  thousand  times  grateful. 

The  sober-minded  woman  admitted  within  herself  that 
the  child  was  greatly  improved.  Perhaps  gay  attire  did 
foster  vanity,  yet  it  was  pleasant  for  others  to  look  upon. 

"  Run  down  and  ask  your  uncle  if  you  will  do,"  ex 
claimed  Miss  Recompense,  feeling  that  by  his  approval 
she  would  discharge  her  conscience  from  the  sin,  if  sin 
it  were. 

She  looked  so  dainty  as  she  came  and  stood  by  him, 
and  asked  her  question  with  such  a  bewitching  flush, 
that  he  kissed  her  on  the  forehead  for  approval.  But 
she  put  her  soft  young  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed 
him  back,  and  he  held  her  there  with  a  strange  new 
warmth  stirring  his  heart. 

The  old  Royall  house  in  Summer  Street  went  its  way 
three-quarters  of  a  century  ago.  No  one  dreams  now  of 
the  beautiful  garden  that  surrounded  it,  and  the  blossom 
ing  shrubbery  and  beds  of  flowers  from  which  nosegays 
were  sent  to  friends,  and  the  fruit  distributed  later  on. 
It  was  an  old  house  then,  a  great  square,  two-story  build 
ing  with  a  cupola  railed  around  a  flat  place  at  the  point 
of  the  roof,  or  what  would  have  been  the  point  if  carried 
up.  There  were  some  rooms  built  out  at  the  back,  and 
an  arbor — a  covered  sort  of  allee  where  the  ladies  sat  and 
sewed  at  times  and  the  children  played.  Thirty  years 
before  there  had  been  many  a  meeting  of  friends  to  dis 
cuss  the  state  of  affairs.  There  had  been  disagreement^ 


A   LITTLE   CHRISTMAS.  177 

ruptures,  quarrels  made  and  healed.  George  Royall  had 
gone  back  to  England.  Dwight  Royall  had  fought  on 
the  side  of  the  "  Rebels."  One  daughter  had  married  an 
English  officer  who  had  surrendered  with  Cornwallis 
and  then  returned  to  his  native  land.  A  younger  son 
had  married  and  died,  and  left  two  daughters  to  his 
mother's  care,  their  own  mother  being  dead.  A 
widowed  daughter  had  come  home  to  live  with  her  four 
children,  the  two  youngest  being  girls.  Dorcas  Payne 
was  a  cousin  to  them  on  their  father's  side. 

There  were  often  guests  staying  with  them,  and  the  old 
house  was  still  the  scene  of  good  times, as  they  were  then: 
friends  dropping  in  and  finding  ready  hospitality.  For 
though  Madam  Royall  had  passed  the  three  score  and 
ten,  she  was  still  intelligent  and  had  been  in  her  earlier 
years  accomplished.  She  could  play  on  her  old- 
fashioned  spinet  for  the  children  to  dance,  and  sometimes 
she  sang  the  songs  of  her  youth,  though  her  voice  had 
grown  a  trifle  unsteady  in  singing. 

The  sun  was  setting  the  west  in  a  glow  of  magnificence 
as  they  walked  up  to  the  Royall  house.  Madam  Royall 
and  her  daughter  Mrs.  Chapman  were  waiting  to  wel 
come  them. 

In  this  hall  was  the  tall  stove  that  was  beginning  to  do 
duty  for  the  cheerful  hearthfire,  and  it  diffused  a  delight 
ful  atmosphere  of  warmth.  But  you  could  see  the  blaze 
in  the  parlor  and  the  dining  room,  where  some  friends 
were  already  assembled  and  having  a  game  of  cards. 
The  sideboard,  as  was  the  custom  then,  was  set  out  with 
a  decanter  of  Madeira  and  one  of  sherry  and  the  glasses, 
besides  a  great  silver  basin  filled  with  nuts  and  dried  fruit 
and  another  dish  of  crullers. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  hall  there  was  a  hubbub 
of  children's  voices.  Madam  Royall  ushered  Mr.  Adams 
into  the  dining  room,  left  Gary  to  the  attention  of  the 


178        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

two  girls  and  their  aunt,  and  took  possession  of  Doris 
herself,  removing  her  wraps  and  handing  them  to  the 
maid.  Then  taking  her  hand  she  drew  her  into  the  room, 
kept  mostly  for  dancing  and  party  purposes. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY. 

'"PHIS  is  Doris  Adams,  a  little  girl  who  came  from 
*  England  not  long  ago.  You  must  make  her  wel 
come  and  show  her  what  delightful  children  there  are  in 
Boston.  These  two  girls  are  Helen  and  Eudora  Chap 
man,  my  grandchildren,  and  the  others  are  grandnieces 
and  friends.  Helen,  you  must  do  the  honors." 

Dorcas  Payne  came  forward.  "  She  goes  to  the  same 
school  that  I  do."  She  had  been  entertaining  the  girls 
with  nearly  all  she  knew  about  Doris.  That  Mr.  Win- 
throp  Adams  was  her  uncle  and  guardian  raised  her  a 
good  deal  in  the  estimation  of  Dorcas,  for  even  then  a 
man  was  thought  unusually  well  off  to  be  able  to  live 
without  doing  any  real  business. 

"Would  you  like  to  play  graces?  "  asked  Eudora. 

"  I  don't  know,"  admitted  Doris. 

"We  were  playing.  Grace  and  Molly,  you  go  down 
that  end  of  the  room.  Now,  this  is  the  way.  When 
Betty  tosses  it  you  catch  it  on  the  sticks,  so." 

It  seemed  very  easy  when  Eudora  caught  it  and  tossed 
it  back,  and  Betty  threw  it  again. 

"  Now  you  try,"  and  she  put  the  sticks  in  Doris'  hands. 
"  Oh,  what  tiny  little  hands  you  have,  and  as  white  as 
snow! " 

Doris  blushed.  She  threw  the  hoop  and  it  "wabbled," 
but  Betty,  a  bright,  black-eyed  girl,  made  a  lunge  or  two, 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  179 

and  caught  it  on  the  tip  of  one  stick,  and  back  it 
came.  Doris  was  looking  at  her  and  never  moved  her 
hand. 

"  Pick  it  up  and  try  again,"  said  Eudora.  "  That  isn't 
the  right  way,  but  we  will  excuse  you  this  time." 

Alas!  this  time  Doris  ran  and  brandished  her  stick 
in  the  air  to  no  purpose. 

"  I  would  rather  see  you  play,"  she  said.  "  You  are 
all  doing  it  so  beautifully." 

"  Then  you  stand  here  and  watch." 

It  was  very  fascinating.  There  were  three  sets  play 
ing.  Doris  found  that  when  a  girl  missed  she  gave  up 
to  some  other  companion.  Her  eyes  could  hardly  move 
quickly  enough  to  watch  all  the  hoops.  Now  and  then  a 
girl  was  crowned, — that  meant  the  hoops  encircled  her 
head, — and  they  all  shouted. 

Then  Helen  said  they  had  played  that  long  enough, 
and  now  they  would  try  "  Hunt  the  slipper."  The  slip 
per  was  a  pretty  one,  made  of  pink  plush  with  a  dainty 
heel  and  a  shining  buckle  set  in  a  small  pink  bow. 
Doris  said  "  it  looked  like  a  Cinderella  slipper." 

"  Oh,  do  you  know  about  Cinderella?  Do  you  know 
many  stories?  " 

"  Not  a  great  many.  Little  Red  Riding  Hood  and 
Beauty  and  the  Beast,  and  a  few  in  verses." 

"  I  wish  you  knew  something  quite  new.  Oh !  " 
Eudora  had  forgotten  to  keep  the  slipper  going.  The 
girls  were  sitting  in  a  ring,  so  she  jumped  up  cheerfully 
and  began  to  hunt.  There  were  a  great  many  little 
giggles  and  exclamations,  and  then  someone  said:  "  Oh, 
let's  stop  playing  and  tell  riddles !  " 

That  was  a  never-failing  amusement.  There  were 
some  very  bright  ones,  some  very  puzzling  ones.  One 
girl  asked  how  many  baskets  of  dirt  there  were  in  Copp's 
Hill. 


i8o        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Why,  there  can't  anybody  tell,"  said  Helen.  "  You 
couldn't  measure  it  that  way." 

Everybody  looked  at  everybody  else,  and  the  glances 
finally  grew  indignant. 

"  There  isn't  any  answer." 

"Give  it  up?"  ' 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  voices  in  unison. 

"  Why,  one — if  the  basket  is  big  enough." 

"  There  couldn't  be  a  basket  made  as  large  as  that. 
You  might  as  well  ask  how  many  drops  of  water  there 
are  in  the  sea,  and  then  say  only  one  because  they  all 
run  together." 

The  girls  applauded  that,  and,  before  anyone  had 
thought  of  another,  Miranda, — tall,  black,  imposing,  with 
a  gay  turban  wound  round  her  head, — announced: 

"  De  little  misses  were  all  disquested  to  walk  out  to  de 
Christmas  supper." 

Grandmamma  did  not  know  how  to  leave  her  guests, 
and  she  was  in  the  middle  of  a  game  of  loo,  but  she  had 
promised  to  sit  at  the  head  of  the  table,  so  Mrs.  Chap 
man  took  her  place.  No  one  felt  troubled  because  there 
were  no  boys  at  the  party :  the  only  boy  of  the  house  had 
gone  out  skating  with  some  other  boys. 

It  was  quite  a  royal  feast.  There  were  thin  bread  and 
butter,  dainty  biscuits  not  much  larger  than  the  penny 
of  that  day,  cold  turkey  and  cold  ham,  and  cake  of  every 
kind,  it  would  seem,  ranged  around  the  iced  Christmas 
cake  that  was  surmounted  by  a  wreath  of  some  odd 
golden  flowers  that  people  dried  and  kept  all  winter  for 
ornamental  purposes. 

They  puzzled  grandmamma  with  the  two  riddles,  but 
she  thought  that  about  the  sea  the  better  one.  And  she 
said  no  one  would  ever  have  an  opportunity  to  meas 
ure  Copp's  Hill,  but  for  all  that  they  did,  if  they  had 
cared  to. 


A   CHILDREN'S    PARTY.  181 

The  grown-up  people  had  some  tea  and  chocolate  in 
the  dining  room,  and  seemed  to  be  having  as  merry  a 
time  as  the  children.  There  was  something  infectious 
in  the  air  or  the  house.  Doris  thought  it  very  delight 
ful.  Her  cheeks  began  to  bloom  in  a  wild-rose  tint,  and 
her  eyes  had  a  luminous  look,  as  if  happiness  was  shin 
ing  through  them. 

Afterward  grandmamma  played  on  the  spinet  and  they 
danced  several  pretty  simple  figures,  ending  with  the 
minuet.  When  the  clock  struck  seven  someone  came 
in  a  sleigh  for  four  of  the  girls  who  lived  quite  near  to 
gether.  Pompey,  the  Royalls'  servant,  was  to  escort  the 
others,  and  Betty  March  lived  just  across  in  Winter 
Street.  When  children  went  out  the  hours  were  kept 
pretty  strictly.  Seven  o'clock  meant  seven  truly,  and 
not  eight  or  nine. 

Each  child  had  a  pretty  paper  box  of  candy,  tied  with 
a  bright  ribbon.  Bonbons  we  should  call  them  now. 
And  they  all  expressed  their  thanks  and  made  a  courtesy 
as  they  reached  the  hall  door. 

"  Have  you  had  a  good  time?  "  asked  Madam  Royall, 
taking  Doris  by  the  hand. 

"  It's  been  just  delightful,  every  moment,"  the  child 
answered. 

"  And  she's  only  looked  on,  grandmamma,"  ex 
claimed  Eudora.  "  Now,  let's  us  get  real  acquainted. 
We  will  go  in  the  parlor  and  have  a  good  talk." 

"  Very  well,"  returned  grandmamma.  "  I'll  go  and 
see  what  the  old  people  are  about." 

"  I  am  glad  you  don't  have  to  go  home  so  soon,"  be 
gan  Helen.  "  Why  don't  you  live  with  your  Uncle 
Adams  instead  of  in  Sudbury  Street?  Are  there  any 
girls  there?  " 

"  One  real  big  one  who  is  sixteen.  She  has  gone  to 
Hartford  now.  That's  Bettv  Leverett.  And  I  went 


i8z        A  LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

there  first,  because — well,  Uncle  Leverett  came  for  me 
when  the  vessel  reached  Boston." 

"  Oh,  he  is  your  uncle,  too!  Did  you  come  from  an 
other  Boston,  truly  now?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  Boston." 

"And  like  this?" 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  Did  you  know  ever  so  many  girls?  " 

"  No.    We  lived  quite  out  of  the  town." 

"And,  oh,  were  you  not  afraid  to  cross  the  ocean? 
Suppose  there  had  been  a  pirate  or  something?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  anything  about  pirates,"  said  Doris. 
"  But  I  was  afraid  at  first,  when  you  could  not  see 
any  land  for  days  and  days.  There  were  two  little 
girls  and  they  had  a  doll.  We  played  together  and 
grew  used  to  the  water.  But  it  was  worse  when  it 
stormed." 

"  I  should  have  been  frightened  out  of  my  life.  Grand 
mamma  has  been  to  England.  We  have  some  cousins 
there,  but  they  are  grown-up  people  and  married. 
Which  place  do  you  like  best?  " 

"  I  had  no  real  relatives  there  after  papa  died.  Oh, 
I  like  this  Boston  best." 

Then  they  branched  off  into  school  matters.  Eudora 
and  her  sister  went  to  a  Miss  Parker,  and  to  a  writing 
school  an  hour  in  the  afternoon.  Eudora  wished  she  was 
grown-up  like  Isabel  and  Alice,  and  could  go  out  to  real 
parties  and  have  a  silk  frock.  Grandmamma  was  going 
to  give  her  one  when  she  was  fifteen. 

A  feeling  of  delicacy  kept  Doris  from  confessing  that 
she  owned  the  coveted  article.  Some  of  the  girls  had 
worn  very  pretty  frocks.  Eudora's  was  a  beautiful  soft 
blue,  and  had  bands  of  black  velvet  and  short  sleeves  with 
lace  around  them.  But  Doris  had  forgotten  about  her 
own  attire,  though  she  recalled  the  fact  that  there  was 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  183 

only  one  little  girl  in  a  gray  frock,  and  it  didn't  seem  very 
pretty. 

So  they  chattered  on,  and  Eudora  said  they  would  have 
splendid  times  if  she  came  in  the  summer.  They  had  a 
big  swing,  and  they  went  over  on  the  Common  and  had 
no  end  of  fun  playing  tag.  The  warm  weather  was  the 
nicest,  though  there  was  great  fun  sledding  and  snow 
balling  when  the  boys  were  not  too  rough.  Oh,  had  she 
seen  the  forts  and  the  great  light  out  at  Fort  Hill? 
Wasn't  it  just  grand? 

"  But,  you  know,  Walter  said  if  the  redoubts  had  been 
stone  instead  of  snow,  the  Rebels  never  could  have 
taken  them.  You  know,  they  called  us  Rebels  then. 
And  now  we  are  a  nation." 

Doris  wondered  what  a  redoubt  was,  but  she  saved  it 
to  ask  Uncle  Win.  She  gave  a  sigh  to  think  what  an 
ignorant  little  girl  she  was. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  great  deal  finer  to  be  a  country  all  by 
yourself  and  govern  your  own  people.  The  King  of 
England  is  half  crazy,  you  know.  You  don't  mind,  do 
you,  when  we  talk  about  the  English?  We  don't  really 
mean  every  person,  and  our  friends  and — and  all " — 
getting  rather  confused  with  distinctions. 

"  We  mean  the  government,"  interposed  Helen.  "  It 
stands  to  reason  people  thousands  of  miles  away 
wouldn't  know  what  is  best  for  us.  Wouldn't  it  be 
ridiculous  if  someone  in  Virginia  should  pretend  to  in 
struct  grandmamma  what  to  do?  Grandmamma  knows 
so  much.  And  she  is  one  of  the  handsomest  old  ladies 
in  Boston.  Oh,  listen!" 

A  mysterious  sound  came  from  the  kitchen.  A  fiddle 
was  surely  tuning  up  somewhere. 

"  The  big  folks  are  going  to  dance,  and  that  is  black 
Joe,  Mr.  Winslow's  man." 

Mr.   Winslow  and  a  young  lady  had  arrived  also. 


184        A   LITTLE  GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

They    tendered    many    apologies     about    their    late 
ness. 

The  people  in  the  dining  room  left  the  table  and  came 
out  in  the  hall.  Gary  Adams  had  been  having  a  very 
nice  time,  for  a  young  fellow.  Isabel  poured  the  choco 
late,  and  on  her  right  sat  a  Harvard  senior.  Alice 
poured  the  tea,  and  beside  her  sat  Gary,  who  made  him 
self  useful  handing  it  about.  He  liked  Alice  very  much. 
A  young  married  couple  were  over  on  the  other  side,  and 
now  this  addition  and  the  fiddle  looked  suspicious. 

"  My  dear  Doris,"  exclaimed  her  uncle.  He  had  been 
discussing  Greek  poets  with  the  Harvard  professor,  and 
had  really  forgotten  about  her.  "  Are  you  tired?  It's 
about  time  a  young  person  like  you,  and  an  old  person 
like  me,  went  home." 

He  didn't  look  a  bit  old.  There  was  a  tint  of  pink  in 
his  cheeks — he  had  been  so  roused  and  warmed  with  his 
argument  and  his  tea. 

"  Oh,  do  let  Doris  stay  and  see  them  dance,  just  one 
dance,"  pleaded  Eudora.  "  We  have  been  sitting  here 
talking,  and  haven't  tired  ourselves  out  a  bit." 

The  fiddler  and  the  dancers  went  to  the  room  where 
the  children  had  their  frolic.  That  was  Jane  Morse's 
cousin  Winslow.  How  odd  she  should  see  him  and 
hear  black  Joe,  who  fiddled  like  the  blind  piper.  The 
children  kept  time  with  their  feet. 

The  minuet  was  elegant.  Then  they  had  a  cotillion 
in  which  there  was  a  great  deal  of  bowing.  After  that 
Mr.  Adams  said  they  must  go  home,  and  Madam  Royall 
came  and  talked  to  Doris  in  a  charming  fashion,  and 
then  told  Susan,  the  slim  colored  maid,  to  wrap  her  up 
head  and  ears,  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Adams'  protest  Pom- 
pey  came  round  with  the  sleigh. 

"  I  hope  you  had  a  nice  time,"  said  Madam  Royall, 
as  she  put  a  Christmas  box  in  the  little  girl's  hand. 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  185 

"  I'm  just  full  of  joy,"  she  answered  with  shining  eyes. 
"  I  couldn't  hold  any  more  unless  I  grew,"  laughingly. 

They  made  her  promise  to  come  again,  and  the  chil 
dren  kissed  her  good-by.  Then  they  were  whisked  off 
and  set  down  at  their  own  door  in  no  time. 

"  Now  you  must  run  to  bed.  Aunt  Elizabeth  would 
be  horrified  at  your  staying  up  so  late." 

Miss  Recompense  was — almost.  She  had  been  nod 
ding  over  the  fire. 

They  went  upstairs  together.  She  took  a  look  at 
Doris,  and  suddenly  the  child  clasped  her  round  the 
waist. 

"  Oh,  dear  Miss  Recompense,  I  was  so  glad  about  the 
beautiful  sash.  Most  of  the  frocks  were  prettier  than 
mine.  Some  had  tiny  ruffles  round  the  bottom  and  the 
sleeves.  But  the  party  was  so  nice  I  forgot  all  about 
that.  Oh,  Miss  Recompense,  were  you  ever  brimful  of 
happiness,  and  you  wanted  to  sing  for  pure  gladness?  I 
think  that  is  the  way  the  birds  must  feel." 

No,  Miss  Recompense  had  never  been  that  happy.  A 
great  joy,  the  delight  of  childhood,  had  been  lost  out  of 
her  life.'  She  had  been  trained  to  believe  that  for  every 
miserable  day  you  spent  bewailing  your  sins,  a  day  in 
heaven  would  be  intensified,  and  that  happiness  on  earth 
was  a  snare  of  the  Evil  One  to  lead  astray.  She  had 
gone  out  in  the  fields  and  bemoaned  herself,  and  won 
dered  how  the  birds  could  sing  when  they  had  to  die  so 
soon,  and  how  anyone  could  laugh  when  he  had  to  an 
swer  for  everything  at  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

"  Everybody  was  so  delightful,  though  at  first  I  felt 
strange.  And  I  did  not  make  out  at  all  playing  graces. 
That's  just  beautiful,  and  I'd  like  to  know  how.  And 
now  if  you  will  untie  the  sash  and  put  it  away,  and  I  ana 
a  hundred  times  obliged  to  you." 

Some  of  the  children   she  had   known   would  have 


186        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

begged  for  the  sash.  Doris'  frank  return  touched  her. 
Mr.  Adams  no  doubt  meant  her  to  keep  it — she  would 
ask  him. 

And  then  the  happy  little  girl  went  to  bed,  while  even 
in  the  dark  the  room  seemed  full  of  exquisite  visions  and 
voices  that  charmed  her. 

Gary  had  to  go  away  the  next  morning.  Uncle  Win 
said  he  couldn't  spare  her,  and  sent  Cato  over  to  tell  Mrs. 
Leverett.  A  young  man  came  in  for  some  instruction, 
and  Doris  followed  the  fate  of  the  Vicar's  household 
a  while,  until  she  felt  she  ought  to  study,  since  there  were 
so  many  things  she  did  not  know. 

Uncle  Win  found  her  in  the  chimney  corner  with  a 
pile  of  books. 

"  What  is  it  now?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  I  know  all  my  spelling.  But  I  can't  get 
some  of  the  addition  tables  right  when  I  ask  myself  ques 
tions.  I  wish  there  had  not  been  any  nine." 

"  The  world  couldn't  get  along  without  the  nine.  It 
is  very  necessary." 

"  Most  of  the  good  things  are  hard,"  she  said  with  a 
philosophic  sigh. 

He  laughed. 

"  Eudora  does  not  like  tables  either." 

"  I  will  tell  you  a  famous  thing  about  nine  that  you 
can't  do  with  any  other  figure.  How  much  is  ten  and 
ten?" 

"  Why,  twenty,  and  ten  more  are  thirty,  and  so  on. 
It  is  easy  as  turning  over  your  hand." 

"  Ten  and  nine." 

Doris  looked  nonplused  and  began  to  draw  her  brow 
in  perplexed  lines. 

"  Nine  is  only  one  less  than  ten.  Now,  if  you  can  re 
member  that " 

"  Nineteen!     Why,  that  is  splendid." 


A  CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  187 

"  Now  sixteen  and  nine?  " 

"Twenty-five,"  rather  hesitatingly. 

He  nodded.     "  And  nine  more." 

"Thirty-four.  Oh,  we  made  a  rhyme.  Uncle  Win- 
throp,  is  it  very  hard  to  write  verses?  They  are  so 
beautiful." 

"  I  think  it  is — rather,"  with  his  half-smile. 

People  had  not  had  the  leisure  to  be  very  poetical  as 
yet.  But  through  these  years  some  children  were  being 
born  into  the  world  whose  verses  were  to  find  a  place  by 
every  fireside  before  the  little  girl  said  her  last  good 
night  to  it.  So  far  there  had  been  some  bright  witticisms 
and  sarcasms  in  rhyme,  and  the  clergy  had  penned  verses 
for  wedding  and  funeral  occasions.  The  Rev.  John  Cot 
ton  had  indulged  in  flowing  versification,  and  even  Gov 
ernor  Bradford  had  interspersed  his  severer  cares  with 
visions  of  softer  strains.  Anne  Dudley,  the  wife  of 
Governor  Bradstreet,  with  her  eight  children,  had  found 
time  for  study  and  writing,  and  about  1650  had  a  volume 
of  verse  published  in  London  entitled  "  The  Tenth  Muse. 
Several  poems  compiled  with  a  great  variety  of  wit  and 
learning.  By  an  American  Gentlewoman."  And  she 
makes  this  protest  even  then: 

I  am  obnoxious  to  each  carping  tongue, 
Who  says  my  hand  a  needle  better  fits; 

A  poet's  pen  all  scorn  I  thus  should  wrong, 
For  such  despite  they  cast  on  female  wits: 

If  what  I  do  prove  well  it  won't  advance, 

They'll  say  it's  stolen,  or  else  it  was  by  chance. 

There  was  also  a  Mrs.  Murray  and  a  Mercy  Otis  War 
ren,  who  evinced  very  fine  intellectual  ability;  and  Mrs. 
Adams  had  written  letters  that  the  world  a  hundred  years 
later  was  to  admire  and  esteem. 

On  the  parlor  table  in  some  houses  you  found  a 


i88        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

thin  volume  of  poems  with  a  romantic  history.  A  Mrs. 
Wheatley  bought  a  little  girl  at  the  slave  market  one 
day,  mostly  out  of  pity.  She  learned  to  read  very 
rapidly,  and  was  so  modest  and  thoughtful  that  as  a 
young  woman  she  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  Dr. 
Sewall's  flock  at  the  Old  South  Church.  She  went 
abroad  with  her  master's  son  before  the  breaking  out  of 
the  war,  and  interested  Londoners  so  much  that  her 
poems  were  published  and  she  was  the  recipient  of  a 
good  many  attentions.  Afterward  they  were  reissued  in 
Boston  and  met  with  warm  commendations  for  the  no 
bility  of  sentiment  and  smooth  versification.  So  to 
Phillis  Wheately  belongs  the  honor  of  having  been  one 
of  the  first  female  poets  in  Boston. 

And  young  men  even  now  celebrated  their  sweethearts' 
charms  in  rhyme.  Gay  gallants  wrote  their  own  valen 
tines.  Young  collegians  struggled  with  Latin  verse, 
and  sometimes  scaled  the  heights  of  Thessaly  from 
whence  inspiration  sprang.  But,  for  the  most  part,  the 
temperaments  that  inclined  to  the  worship  of  the  Muses 
sought  solace  in  Chaucer,  Shakspere,  and  Milton  while 
the  later  ones  were  winning  their  way. 

Doris  sighed  over  the  doubtfulness  in  her  uncle's  tone. 
But  it  was  music  rather  than  poetry  that  floated  through 
her  brain. 

"  You  might  come  and  read  a  little  Latin,  and  then  we 
will  have  a  talk  in  French.  We  will  leave  the  prosaic 
part.  What  you  will  do  in  square  root  and  cube 
root " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  grow  at  all.  I'll  just  wither 
up.  Isn't  there  some  round  root?  " 

"  Yes,  among  vegetables." 

They  both  laughed  at  that. 

She  did  quite  well  in  the  Latin.  Then  she  spelled 
some  rather  difficult  words,  and  being  in  the  high  tide  of 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  189 

French  when  dinner  was  announced,  they  kept  on  talk 
ing,  to  the  great  amusement  of  Miss  Recompense,  who 
could  hardly  convince  herself  that  it  really  did  mean  any 
thing  reasonable. 

Uncle  Winthrop  said  then  they  certainly  deserved 
some  indulgence,  and  if  she  was  not  afraid  of  blowing 
away  they  would  go  out  riding  again.  They  took  the 
small  sleigh  and  he  drove,  and  they  turned  down  toward 
the  stem  end  of  the  pear,  and  if  Boston  had  not  held  on 
good  and  strong  in  those  early  years  it  might  in  some 
high  wind  have  been  twisted  off  and  left  an  island. 

It  does  not  look,  to-day,  much  as  it  did  when  Doris 
first  saw  it.  Charles  River  has  shrunken,  Back  Bay  has 
been  filled  up.  It  has  stretched  out  everywhere  and 
made  itself  a  marvelous  city.  The  Common  has  changed 
as  well,  and  is  more  beautiful  than  one  could  have  imag 
ined  then,  but  a  thousand  old  recollections  cling  to  it. 

They  left  the  streets  behind.  Sleigh  riding  was  the 
great  winter  amusement  then,  but  you  had  to  take  it  in 
cold  weather,  for  the  salt  air  all  about  softened  the  snow 
the  first  mild  day.  There  was  no  factory  smoke  or  dust 
to  mar  it,  and  it  lay  in  great  unbroken  sheets.  There 
were  people  skating  on  Back  Bay,  and  chairs  on  runners 
with  ladies  well  wrapped  up  in  furs,  and  sleds  of  every 
description. 

They  came  up  around  the  other  side  and  saw  the 
wharves  and  the  idle  shipping  and  the  white-capped 
islands  in  the  harbor.  Now  the  wind  did  nearly  blow 
you  away. 

The  next  day  was  very  lowering  and  chilly.  Uncle 
Winthrop  had  to  go  to  a  dinner  among  some  notables. 
Miss  Recompense  always  brushed  his  hair  and  tied  the 
queue.  Young  men  did  not  wear  them,  but  some  of 
the  older  people  thought  leaving  them  off  was  aping 
youthfulness.  He  put  on  his  black  velvet  smallclothes, 


190        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

his  silk  stockings  and  low  shoes  with  silver  buckles,  his 
flowered  waistcoat,  his  high  stock  and  fine  French  broad 
cloth  coat.  His  shirt  front  had  two  full  ruffles  beauti 
fully  crimped.  Miss  Recompense  did  it  with  a  penknife. 

"  You  look  just  like  a  picture,  Uncle  Winthrop,"  Doris 
exclaimed  admiringly.  "  Party  clothes  do  make  one 
handsomer.  I  suppose  it  isn't  good  for  one  to  be  hand 
some  all  the  time." 

"  We  should  grow  too  vain,"  he  answered  smilingly, 
yet  he  did  enjoy  the  honest  praise. 

"  Perhaps  if  we  were  used  to  it  all  the  time  it  would 
not  seem  so  beautiful.  It  would  get  to  be  everyday-like, 
and  you  would  not  think  about  it." 

True  enough.  He  had  a  fancy  Madam  Royall  did  not 
think  half  so  much  about  her  apparel  as  some  of  the 
more  strenuous  people  who  referred  continually  to  con 
science. 

"  Good-by.  Maybe  you  will  be  in  bed  when  I  come 
back." 

"  Oh,  will  you  be  gone  that  late?  "  She  stood  upon 
a  stool  and  reached  over  to  give  him  a  parting  kiss,  if 
she  could  not  see  him  until  to-morrow,  and  she  did  not 
even  touch  his  immaculate  ruffles. 

It  was  growing  dusky,  and  Miss  Recompense  was  in 
and  out,  and  was  in  no  hurry  for  candlelight  herself. 
Doris  sat  in  a  kind  of  chaotic  thinking.  Someone  came 
up  the  steps,  stamped  his  feet  quite  too  noisily  for  Cato, — 
even  if  he  had  returned  so  soon, — knocked  at  the  door, 
and  then  opened  it. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Leverett!  "  and  she  sprang  up. 

"Well,  well,  little  runaway!  I  was  quite  struck  when 
mother  told  me  you  were  going  to  stay  all  the  week.  I 
wanted  to  see  my  little  girl.  It's  lonesome  without  you 
and  Betty,  I  can  tell  you — lonesome  as  the  woods  in 
winter;  and  as  I  couldn't  get  to  see  her,  I  thought 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  191 

I  would  run  around  this  way  and  see  you.  The  longest 
way  round  is  the  surest  way  home,  I  have  heard  " — with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Where's  Uncle  Win?  What  are 
you  doing  in  the  dark  alone?  " 

"  Uncle  Win  has  gone  to  a  grand  dinner  at  the  Ex 
change  something.  And  he  dressed  all  up.  He  looked 
splendid." 

"  I  dare  say.  He  isn't  bad-looking  in  his  everyday 
gear.  And  you  are  having  a  good  time?  " 

"  A  most  beautiful  time,  Uncle  Leverett.  I  went  to 
church  Christmas  morning.  And  a  lady  asked  us  both 
to  a  party — yes,  it  was  a  party.  The  grown  people  were 
by  themselves,  and  the  children — there  were  ten  little 
girls — they  had  a  grand  supper  and  played  games  and 
told  riddles,  and  we  talked " 

"  Where  was  this  fine  affair?  " 

"  At  Madam  Royall's.  And  she  was  so  kind  and  sweet 
and  handsome." 

"  Well,  I  declare !  Right  in  amongst  the  quality !  I 
don't  know  what  mother  would  say  to  a  party.  What  a 
pity  you  didn't  have  that  pretty  frock !  " 

"  I  did  wish  for  it  at  first,  but  we  had  such  a  nice  time 
it  made  no  difference.  And  then  some  more  people 
came  and  Mr.  Winslow  and  Black  Joe,  who  was  at 
Betty's  party,  and  they  danced.  Gary  went,  too.  He 
stayed  after  Uncle  Win  and  I  came  home." 

"  Great  doings.  I  am  glad  you  are  happy.  But  I 
shall  be  doubly  glad  to  get  you  back.  And  now  I  must 
run  off  home." 

Miss  Recompense  came  in  and  lighted  the  candles. 
They  were  going  to  have  supper  in  five  minutes  and  he 
must  take  off  his  coat  and  stay. 

"  I've  sort  of  run  away,  and  no  one  would  know  where 
I  am.  Wife  would  keep  supper  waiting.  No,  I  must 
hustle  back,  thanking  you  for  the  asking.  I  wanted  to 


192        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

see  Doris.  Somehow  we  have  grown  so  used  to  her 
already  that  the  house  seems  kind  of  lost  without  her, 
Betty  being  away.  We  haven't  had  any  letter  from 
Hartford,  but  I  dare  say  she  is  there  all  safe." 

"  Post  teams  do  get  delayed.  Doris  is  well  and  satis 
fied.  She  and  her  uncle  have  great  times  studying." 

"  That  is  good.  Wife  worried  a  little  about  school. 
Now  I  must  go.  Good-night.  You  will  surely  be  home 
on  Saturday." 

"  Good-night,"  returned  the  soft  voice. 

Somehow  the  supper  was  very  quiet.  Doris  had  be 
gun  to  read  aloud  to  Miss  Recompense  "  The  Story  of 
Rasselas,  Prince  of  Abyssinia."  She  did  not  like  it  as 
well  as  her  dear  Vicar,  but  Uncle  Win  said  it  was  good. 
He  was  not  quite  sure  of  the  Vicar  for  such  a  child.  So 
she  read  along  very  well  for  a  while,  and  then  she 
yawned. 

"  You  were  up  late  last  night  and  you  must  go  to  bed," 
said  the  elder  lady. 

Doris  was  ready.  She  was  sleepy,  but  somehow  she 
did  not  drop  asleep  all  in  a  minute.  There  was  a  grave 
subject  to  consider.  All  day  she  was  thinking  how 
splendid  it  would  be  if  Uncle  Win  should  ask  her  to 
come  here  and  live.  She  liked  him.  She  liked  the 
books  and  the  curiosities  and  the  talks  and  the  teaching. 
Uncle  Win  was  so  much  more  interesting  than  Mrs. 
W'ebb,  who  flung  questions  at  you  in  a  way  that  made 
you  jump  if  you  were  not  paying  strict  attention.  There 
were  other  delights  that  she  could  not  explain  to  herself. 
And  the  books,  the  leisure  to  sit  and  think.  For  careful 
Aunt  Elizabeth  said — "  Have  you  hung  up  your  cloak, 
Doris?  Are  you  sure  you  know  your  spelling?  I  do 
wonder  if  you  will  ever  get  those  tables  perfect!  The 
idea  of  such  a  big  girl  not  knowing  how  to  knit  a  stock 
ing!  Don't  sit  there  looking  into  the  fire  and  dreaming, 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  193 

Doris;  attend  to  your  book.  Jimmie  boy  is  away  ahead 
of  you  in  some  things." 

And  here  she  could  sit  and  dream.  Of  course  she  was 
not  going  to  school.  Miss  Recompense  did  not  think  of 
something  all  the  time.  She  had  learned  a  sort  of  gra- 
ciousness  since  she  had  lived  with  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams. 
True,  she  had  nothing  to  worry  about — no  children  to 
advance  in  life,  no  husband  whose  business  she  must  be 
anxiously  considering.  She  had  a  snug  little  sum  of 
money,  and  was  adding  to  it  all  the  time,  and  she  was 
still  a  long  way  from  old  age.  Doris  could  not  have 
understood  the  difference  in  both  position  and  demands, 
but  she  enjoyed  the  atmosphere  of  ease.  And  there  was 
a  certain  aspect  of  luxury,  a  freedom  from  the  grinding 
exactions  of  conscience  that  had  been  trained  to  keep 
continually  on  the  alert  lest  one  "  fall  into  temptation." 

"  He  had  wanted  to  see  his  little  girl.  He  was  lone 
some  without  her." 

She  could  see  the  longing  in  Uncle  Leverett's  face  and 
hear  his  wistful  voice  there  in  the  dark.  He  had  come 
to  the  ship  and  given  her  the  first  greeting  and  brought 
her  home.  Yes,  she  supposed  she  was  his  little  girl. 
Guardians  were  to  take  care  of  one's  money ;  you  did  not 
have  to  live  with  them,  of  course.  Uncle  Leverett  was 
something  in  a  business  way,  too ;  and  he  loved  her.  She 
knew  that  without  any  explanation.  She  was  quite  sure 
Uncle  Win  loved  her  also,  but  her  real  place  was  in  Sud- 
bury  Street. 

Friday  afternoon  she  was  curled  up  by  the  fire  read 
ing,  looking  like  a  big  kitten,  if  you  had  seen  only  her 
gray  frock.  Uncle  Win  had  glanced  at  her  every  now 
and  then.  He  did  not  mind  having  her  around — not  as 
much,  in  fact,  as  Gary,  who  tumbled  books  about  and 
moved  chairs  noisily  and  kept  one's  nerves  astir  all  the 
time,  as  a  big  healthy  fellow  whose  body  has  grown  so 


194        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

fast  that  he  hardly  knows  what  to  do  with  his  long  arms 
and  legs  is  apt  to  do. 

Doris  was  like  a  little  mouse.  She  never  rattled  the 
leaves  when  she  turned  them  over,  she  never  put  books  in 
the  cases  upside  down,  she  did  not  ringer  papers  or  any 
thing  that  lay  on  the  table  when  she  stood  by  it.  He  had 
a  fancy  that  all  children  were  meddlesome  and  curious 
and  given  to  asking  queer  questions:  these  were  the 
things  he  remembered  about  Gary  in  those  first  years  of 
sorrow  when  he  could  hardly  bear  him  out  of  his 
sight. 

Instead,  Doris  was  restful  with  her  quaint  ways.  She 
did  not  run  against  chairs  nor  move  a  stool  so>  that  the 
legs  emitted  a  "  screak  "  of  agony,  and  she  could  sit  still 
for  an  hour  at  a  time  if  she  had  a  book.  Of  course,  being 
a  girl  she  ought  to  sew  instead. 

It  was  getting  quite  dusky.  Uncle  Winthrop  came 
and  stirred  the  fire  and  put  on  a  pine  log,  then  drew  up 
his  chair. 

"  Put  away  your  book,  Doris.  You  will  try  your 
eyes." 

She  shut  it  up  and  came  and  stood  by  him.  He 
passed  his  arm  around  her. 

"  Uncle  Win,  there  was  a  time  when  people  had  to  read 
and  sew  by  the  blaze  of  logs  and  torches.  There  were 
no  candles." 

"  They  did  it  not  so  many  years  ago  here.  I  dare  say 
they  are  still  doing  it  out  in  country  places.  They  go  to 
bed  early." 

"  What  seems  queer  to  me  is  that  people  are  continu 
ally  finding  out  things.  They  must  at  one  time  have 
been  very  ignorant.  No,  they  could  not  have  been 
either,"  reflectively.  "  For  just  think  how  Adam  named 
the  animals.  And  Miss  Arabella  said  that  Job  knew  all 
about  the  stars  and  called  them  by  their  names.  But 


A   CHILDREN'S   PARTY.  195 

perhaps  it  was  the  little  things  like  candles  and  such. 
Yet  they  had  lamps  ever  and  ever  so  long  ago." 

"  People  seem  to  advance  and  then  fall  back.  They 
emigrate  and  cannot  take  all  their  appliances  with  them, 
and  they  make  simpler  things  to  use  until  they  have 
leisure  and  begin  to  accumulate  wealth.  You  see,  they 
could  not  bring  a  great  deal  from  England  or  Holland 
in  the  vessels  they  had  in  early  sixteen  hundred.  So  they 
had  to  begin  at  the  foundation  in  many  things." 

"  It  is  all  so  wonderful  when  you  really  come  to  learn 
about  it,"  she  said  with  a  gentle  sigh. 

The  blaze  was  shining  on  her  now,  and  bringing  out 
the  puzzles  on  the  fair  child's  face.  She  was  very  intel 
ligent,  if  she  was  slow  at  figures. 

"  Doris," — after  a  long  pause, — "  how  would  you  like 
to  live  here?  " 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Win,  it  would  be  the  most  splendid 
thing " 

"  I  fancied  you  might  like  to  change.  And  there  are 
some  matters  connected  with  your  education — why,  what 
is  it,  Doris?" 

She  raised  her  eyes  an  instant,  then  they  drooped  and 
he  saw  the  dark  fringe  beaded  with  tears.  She  took  a 
long  quivering  inspiration. 

"  Uncle  Win — I  don't  believe  I  can."  The  words 
came  very  slowly.  "  You  see  Betty  is  away,  and  Uncle 
Leverett  missed  me  very  much.  He  said  the  other  night 
I  was  his  little  girl,  and  he  was  lonesome " 

"  I  shall  be  lonesome  when  you  are  gone." 

"  But  you  have  so  many  books  and  things,  and  people 
coming,  and — I  should  like  to  stay.  Oh,  I  do  like  you 
so."  She  put  her  slim  arm  around  his  neck  and  laid  her 
cheek  against  his.  "  Sometimes  it  seems  as  if  you  were 
like  what  I  remember  of  papa.  I  only  saw  such  a  little 
of  him,  you  know,  after  I  went  to  England.  But  Aunt 


196        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

Elizabeth  says  it  is  the  hard  things  that  are  right  always. 
She  would  have  Jimmie  boy,  you  know,  if  I  stayed,  but 
Uncle  Leverett  wants  me.  I  can  just  feel  how  it  is,  but 
I  don't  know  how  to  explain  it.  He  has  always  been  so 
good  to  me.  And  that  day  on  the  ship  he  said,  '  Is  this 
my  little  girl? 'and  I  was  so  glad  to  really  belong  to 
someone  again " 

She  was  crying  softly.  He  felt  the  tears  on  his  cheek. 
Her  simple  heroism  touched  him. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  he  said  with  a  comforting  sound  in  his 
voice.  "  Perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  wait  a  little,  until 
Betty  returns,  or  in  the  summer.  You  can  come  over 
Friday  night  and  spend  Sunday,  and  brush  up  on  Latin, 
and  brush  me  up  on  French,  and  we  will  have  a  nice 
visit." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you.  Uncle  Win — if  I  could 
be  two  little  girls " 

"  I  want  you  all,  complete.  We  will  keep  it  to  think 
about." 

Then  Miss  Recompense  said  supper  was  ready,  and 
Doris  wiped  the  tears  out  of  her  eyes  and  smiled.  But 
the  pressure  of  her  hand  as  they  walked  out  confessed 
that  she  belonged  to  him. 

CHAPTER   XIII. 

VARIOUS    OPINIONS    OF    LITTLE    GIRLS. 

!  Vf  OU  have  kept  up  wonderfully  for  being  absent  a 
whole  week.     You  haven't  fallen  back  a  bit,"  said 
Mrs.  Webb. 

Doris  flushed  with  delight.  The  little  training  Uncle 
Winthrop  had  given  her  had  borne  fruit. 

But  she  was  shocked  that  Jimmie  boy  was  so  bad  he 
had  to  be  punished  with  the  ruler.  He  had  been  pun 
ished  twice  in  the  week  before. 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE   GIRLS.     197 

"  Don't  you  darst  to  tell  grandmother,"  he  said  as 
they  were  turning  into  Sudbury  Street.  "  If  you  do 
I'll — I'll  " —  she  was  a  girl,  and  he  coudn't  punch  her — 
"  I  won't  take  you  on  my  sled." 

"No.     I  won't  tell."  ' 

"  Honest  and  true?    Hope  to  die?  " 

"  I'll  say  honest  and  true." 

"  A  little  thing  like  that  aint  much,  just  two  or  three 
slaps.  You  ought  to  see  the  teacher  at  Salem?  My 
brother  Foster  gets  licked  sometimes,  and  he  makes  us 
promise  not  to  tell  father." 

James  had  stood  a  little  in  awe  of  Doris  on  the  point  of 
good  behavior.  But  Sam  had  been  up,  and  James  had 
gone  down  to  Aunt  Martha's,  and  he  felt  a  great  deal 
bigger  now. 

Uncle  Leverett  was  very  glad  to  get  his  little  girl  back. 
They  had  heard  from  Betty,  who  had  spent  two  delight 
ful  days  with  Mrs.  Eastman,  and  then  they  had  gone  to 
Hartford  together.  Electa  and  the  children  were  well, 
and  she  had  a  beautiful  house  with  a  Brussels  carpet  in 
the  parlor  and  velvet  furniture  and  vases  and  a  table 
with  a  marble  top.  Betty  sent  love  to  everybody,  and 
they  were  to  tell  Aunt  Priscilla  that  the  beaver  bonnet 
was  just  the  thing,  and  she  was  going  to  have  the  silk 
frock  made  over  right  away.  Electa  thought  the  India 
silk  lovely,  and  she  was  so  glad  she  had  brought  the 
extra  piece  along,  for  she  was  going  to  have  the  little 
cape  with  long  tabs  to  tie  behind,  and  she  should  use  up 
every  scrap  putting  a  frill  on  it. 

Aunt  Priscilla  had  not  waited  until  March,  but  taken 
another  cold  and  was  confined  to  the  house,  so  Aunt 
Elizabeth  went  over  quite  often.  Martha  Grant  proved 
very  efficient,  and  she  was  industry  itself.  She,  too, 
was  amazed  that  Doris  wasn't  "  put  to  something 
useful." 


198        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Doris  had  brought  home  a  Latin  book,  but  Aunt 
Elizabeth  could  not  cordially  indorse  such  a  boyish 
study.  Women  were  never  meant  to  go  to  colleges. 
But  she  did  not  feel  free  to  thwart  Cousin  Adams'  plans 
for  her. 

He  came  over  on  Saturday  and  took  her  out,  and  they 
had  a  nice  laughing  French  talk,  though  he  admitted  he 
and  Miss  Recompense  had  missed  her  very  much.  She 
told  him  about  Betty,  and  what  Mrs.  Webb  had  said,  and 
seemed  quite  happy. 

Just  at  the  last  of  the  month  they  were  all  very  much 
interested  in  a  grand  affair  to  which  Uncle  Winthrop 
was  an  invited  guest.  It  was  at  the  great  Exchange 
Coffee  House,  and  really  in  honor  of  the  gallant  struggle 
Spain  had  been  making  against  the  man  who  bid  fair 
then  to  be  the  dictator  of  all  Europe.  On  one  throne 
after  another  he  had  placed  the  different  members  of  his 
family.  Joseph  Bonaparte,  who  had  been  King  of 
Naples,  was  summarily  transferred  to  the  throne  of 
Spain,  with  small  regard  for  the  desires  of  her  people. 
He  found  himself  quite  unable  to  cope  with  the  insur 
gents  rising  on  every  hand.  And  America  sent  Spain 
her  warmest  sympathy. 

Uncle  Leverett  read  the  account  aloud  from  his 
weekly  paper.  Now  and  then  there  appeared  a  daily 
paper  for  a  brief  while,  and  a  tolerably  successful  semi- 
weekly,  but  the  real  substantial  paper  was  the  weekly. 
How  they  would  have  found  time  then  to  read  a 
morning  and  an  evening  paper — two  or  three,  perhaps — 
is  beyond  comprehension.  And  to  have  heard  news 
from  every  quarter  of  the  globe  before  it  was  more  than 
a  few  hours  old  would  have  seemed  witchcraft. 

Napoleon  was  now  at  the  zenith  of  his  fame.  But  the 
feeling  of  the  country  at  his  divorcing  Josephine,  who 
loved  him  deeply,  was  a  thrill  of  indignation,  for  the 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE   GIRLS.     199 

tie  of  marriage  was  now  considered  irrevocable  save  for 
the  gravest  cause.  That  he  should  marry  an  Austrian 
princess  for  the  sake  of  allying  himself  to  a  royal  house 
and  having  an  heir  to  the  throne,  which  was  nearly  half 
of  Europe  now,  was  causing  people  even  then  to  draw  a 
parallel  between  him  and  our  own  hero,  Washington. 
Both  had  started  with  an  endeavor  to  free  their  respective 
countries  from  an  intolerable  yoke,  and  when  this  was 
achieved  Washington  had  grandly  and  calmly  laid  down 
the  burdens  of  state  and  retired  to  private  life,  while  Na 
poleon  was  still  bent  upon  conquest.  The  sympathies 
of  America  went  out  to  all  struggling  nations. 

There  had  been  an  ode  read,  and  toasts  and  songs; 
indeed,  it  had  called  together  the  notable  men  of  the  city, 
who  had  partaken  of  a  grand  feast.  It  was  much  talked 
of  for  weeks ;  and  Doris  questioned  Uncle  Winthrop  and 
began  to  be  interested  in  matters  pertaining  to  her  new 
country. 

She  was  learning  a  good  deal  about  the  city.  War 
ren  took  her  to  Aunt  Priscilla's  one  noon,  and  came  for 
her  when  they  had  "  shut  up  shop."  Aunt  Priscilla  did 
not  mend  rapidly.  She  called  it  being  "  pudgicky,"  as  if 
there  was  no  name  of  a  real  disease  to  give  it.  A  little 
fresh  cold,  a  good  deal  of  weakness — and  she  had  always 
been  so  strong;  some  fever  that  would  persist  in  coming 
back  even  when  she  had  succeeded  in  breaking  it  up  for 
a  few  days.  The  time  hung  heavily  on  her  hands.  She 
did  miss  Betty's  freshness  and  bright,  argumentative 
ways.  So  she  was  glad  to  see  Doris,  for  Polly  sat  out  in 
the  kitchen  half  asleep  most  of  the  time. 

Solomon  as  well  always  seemed  very  glad  to  see  Doris. 
He  came  and  sat  in  her  lap,  and  Aunt  Priscilla  told  about 
the  days  when  she  was  a  little  girl,  more  than  fifty  years 
ago.  Doris  thought  life  must  have  been  very  hard,  and 
she  was  glad  not  to  have  lived  then. 


200        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

She  did  like  Miss  Recompense  the  best,  but  she  felt 
very  sorry  for  Aunt  Priscilla's  loneliness. 

"  She  and  Polly  have  grown  old  together,  and  they 
need  some  younger  person  to  take  care  of  them  both," 
said  Uncle  Leverett.  "  She  ought  to  take  her  comfort; 
she  has  money  enough." 

"  It  is  so  difficult  to  find  anyone  to  suit,"  and  Aunt 
Elizabeth  sighed. 

"  I  shall  crawl  out  in  the  spring,"  declared  Mrs.  Per 
kins  ;  but  her  tone  was  rather  despondent. 

Doris  wondered  when  the  spring  would  come.  The 
snow  and  ice  had  never  been  entirely  off  the  ground. 

Besides  going  to  Uncle  Winthrop's, — and  she  went 
every  other  Saturday, — she  had  been  asked  to  Madam 
Royall's  to  tea  with  the  children.  The  elder  lady  had 
not  forgotten  her.  Indeed,  this  was  one  of  the  houses 
that  Mr.  Adams  thoroughly  enjoyed,  though  he  was  not 
much  of  a  hand  to  visit.  But  people  felt  then  that  they 
really  owed  their  neighbors  some  social  duty.  There 
were  not  so  many  public  amusements. 

The  Chapman  children  had  real  dolls,  not  simply  rag 
babies;  and  the  clothes  were  made  so  you  could  take 
them  off.  Doris  was  quite  charmed  with  them.  Helen's 
had  blue  eyes  and  Eudora's  brown,  but  both  were  red- 
cheeked  and  had  black  hair,  which  was  not  really  hair  at 
all,  but  shaped  of  the  composition  and  curled  and  painted 
over. 

They  had  a  grand  long  slide  in  their  garden  at  the 
back.  The  servant  would  flood  it  over  now  and  then 
and  make  it  smooth  as  glass.  Doris  found  it  quite  an  art 
to  stand  up.  Helen  could  go  the  whole  length  beauti 
fully,  and  balance  herself  better  than  Eudora.  But  if 
you  fell  you  generally  tumbled  over  in  the  bank  of  snow 
and  did  not  get  hurt. 

Playing  graces  was  a  great  delight  to  her  and  after 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE    GIRLS.     201 

several  trials  she  became  quite  expert.  Then  on  one 
occasion  Madam  Royall  found  that  she  had  a  very  sweet 
voice. 

"  You  are  old  enough  to  learn  some  pretty  songs,  my 
child,"  she  said.  "  I  must  speak  to  your  uncle.  When 
the  weather  gets  pleasanter  he  must  place  you  in  a  sing 
ing  class." 

Singing  was  quite  a  great  accomplishment  then. 
Very  few  people  had  pianos.  But  young  ladies  and 
young  men  would  sometimes  spend  a  whole  evening  in 
singing  beautiful  old  songs. 

In  March  there  was  a  new  President,  Mr.  Madison. 
Everybody  was  hoping  for  a  new  policy  and  better 
times,  yet  now  and  then  there  were  quite  sharp  talks 
of  war. 

One  day  Mrs.  Manning  and  the  baby  came  in  and 
made  quite  a  visit.  The  baby  was  very  sweet  and  good, 
with  pretty  dark  eyes,  and  Mrs.  Manning  looked  very 
much  like  Aunt  Elizabeth.  Mrs.  Hollis  Leverett  came 
and  spent  the  day,  and  young  married  women  who  had 
been  Mary  Leverett's  friends  came  to  tea.  Warren  went 
over  in  the  old  chaise  and  brought  Aunt  Priscilla. 
Everybody  seemed  personally  aggrieved  that  Betty 
should  stay  away  so  long. 

But  Betty  was  having  a  grand  time.  Her  letters  to 
her  mother  were  very  staid  and  respectful,  but  there  were 
accounts  of  dinners  and  evening  parties  and  two  or  three 
weddings.  Her  brother  King  had  given  her  a  pretty 
pink  silk,  and  that  was  made  pompadour  waist  and  had  a 
full  double  plait  at  the  back  that  hung  down  to  the  floor 
in  a  train.  He  had  taken  her  and  Electa  to  a  grand 
affair  where  there  were  crowds  of  beautifully  attired 
ladies.  Betty  did  not  call  it  a  ball,  for  she  knew  they 
would  all  be  shocked.  And  though  her  mother  had 
written  for  her  to  come  home,  Mrs.  King  had  begged  for 


202        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

a  little  longer  visit,  as  there  seemed  to  be  something 
special  all  the  time. 

"  What  extravagance  for  a  young  girl ! "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Manning.  "Pink  silk  indeed,  and  a  train!  Betty 
will  be  so  flighty  when  she  comes  back  there  will  be  no 
getting  along  with  her.  'Lecty  has  grown  very  worldly, 
I  think.  I  have  never  found  any  occasion  for  a  pink 
silk." 

Mrs.  Leverett  sighed.  And  Betty  was  not  yet  seven 
teen! 

Mrs.  Manning  took  James  home  with  her,  for  she  said 
grandmother  was  spoiling  him.  She  kept  the  children 
with  a  pretty  strict  hand  at  home,  and  they  soon  jumped 
over  the  traces  when  you  gave  them  a  little  liberty.  She 
was  very  glad  to  have  him  go  to  school  all  winter  and 
hoped  he  had  made  some  improvement. 

She  was  very  brisk  and  energetic  and  was  surprised  to 
think  they  were  letting  Doris  grow  up  into  such  a  help 
less,  know-nothing  sort  of  girl.  And  her  daughter  of 
nine  was  like  a  steady  little  woman. 

"  Still  it  isn't  wise  to  put  too  much  on  her,"  said 
Mrs.  Leverett  in  mild  protest.  "  Where  one  cannot 
help  it,  why,  you  must;  but  I  think  life  is  getting 
a  little  easier,  and  children  ought  to  have  their  share 
of  it." 

"  I'm  not  asking  anything  of  her  that  I  did  not  do," 
returned  Mrs.  Manning.  "  And  I  am  proud  of  my 
training  and  my  housekeeping." 

"  But  it  was  so  different  then.  Your  father  and  I  be 
gan  life  with  only  a  few  hundred  dollars.  Then  there 
was  his  three  years  in  the  war,  and  people  were  doing 
everything  for  themselves — spinning  and  weaving  and 
dyeing,  and  making  clothes  of  every  kind.  To  be  sure 
I  make  soap  and  candles,"  laughing  a  little ;  "  but  we 
have  only  one  cow  now  and  give  half  the  milk  for  her 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE   GIRLS.     203 

care.  I  really  felt  as  if  I  ought  not  have  Martha,  but 
father  insisted." 

"  I  don't  see  why  Doris  couldn't  have  done  a  good 
deal  instead  of  poring  over  books  so  much." 

"  Well — you  see  she  isn't  really  our  own.  Cousin 
Winthrop  has  some  ideas  about  her  education.  She  will 
have  a  little  money,  too,  if  everything  turns  out  right." 

"  It's  just  the  way  to  spoil  girls.  And  you  will  find, 
mother,  that  Betty  will  be  none  the  better  for  her  visit 
to  'Lecty.  Dear  me!  I  don't  see  how  'Lecty  can  answer 
to  her  conscience,  spending  money  that  way.  We 
couldn't.  It's  wrong  and  sinful.  And  it's  wrong  to 
bring  up  any  child  in  a  helpless,  do-little  fashion." 

They  were  sitting  by  the  south  window  sewing,  and 
Doris  was  at  the  other  side  of  the  chimney  studying. 
Now  and  then  she  could  not  help  catching  a  sentence. 
She  wondered  what  little  Elizabeth  Manning  was  like, 
who  could  cook  a  meal,  work  butter,  tend  babies,  and 
sew  and  knit  stockings.  She  only  went  to  school  in  the 
winter;  there  was  too  much  work  to  do  in  the  summer. 
She  was  not  left  alone  now;  one  of  the  Manning  aunts 
had  been  staying  some  time.  This  aunt  was  a  tailoress 
and  had  been  fitting  out  Mr.  Manning,  and  now  James 
must  go  home  to  have  some  clothes  made. 

Jimmie  boy  privately  admitted  to  Doris  that  he 
would  rather  stay  at  grandmother's.  She  was  a  good  deal 
easier  on  him  than  his  mother,  and  he  didn't  mind  Mrs. 
Webb  a  bit.  "  But  you  just  ought  to  see  Mr.  Green. 
He  does  lick  the  boys  like  fury!  And  there's  such  lots 
of  errands  to  do  home.  Mother  never  gives  you  a  chunk 
of  cake  either.  I  don't  see  why  they  couldn't  all  have 
been  grandmothers  instead  of  mothers." 

James  was  not  the  first  boy  who  had  wished  such  a 
thing.  But  he  knew  he  had  to  go  home,  and  that  was 
all  there  was  about  it. 


204        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

Martha  wanted  to  go  also.  She  had  bought  a  good 
stout  English  cambric — lively  colored,  as  she  called  it — 
and  a  nice  woolen  or  stuff  frock,  as  goods  of  that  kind 
was  often  called.  She  was  going  to  do  up  her  last  sum 
mer's  white  frock  to  be  married  in.  They  would  have  a 
wedding  supper  at  her  father's  and  then  go  home,  and 
begin  housekeeping  the  next  morning.  Mrs.  Leverett 
added  a  tablecloth  to  her  store. 

Betty  must  be  sent  for  imperatively.  Her  mother  was 
afraid  she  would  be  quite  spoiled.  And  she  could  not 
help  wishing  that  Mrs.  King  would  be  a  little  more  care 
ful  and  not  branch  out  so,  and  Mary  take  life  a  little 
easier,  for  Mr.  Manning  was  putting  by  money  and  had 
his  large  farm  clear. 

Then  Aunt  Priscilla  was  suddenly  at  sea.  Jonas  Field 
had  bought  a  place  of  his  own  where  he  could  live  over 
the  store.  In  spite  of  a  changed  name,  King  Street  had 
dropped  down  and  down,  and  was  now  largely  given  to 
taverns.  The  better  class  had  kept  moving  out  and  a 
poorer  class  coming  in,  with  colored  people  among  them. 
No  one  had  applied  for  the  store,  but  a  man  who  wanted 
to  keep  a  tavern  combined  with  a  kind  of  sailor  lodging 
house  had  made  her  a  very  good  offer  to  buy  the 
property. 

"  I'm  going  to  live  my  time  out  in  this  very  house," 
declared  Aunt  Priscilla  with  some  of  her  olden  energy. 
"  I  came  here  when  I  was  married  and  I'll  stay  to  be 
buried.  By  the  looks  of  things,  it  won't  be  a  great  many 
years.  And  I  haven't  made  a  sign  of  a  will  yet!  Not 
that  the  Perkinses  would  get  anything  if  I  died  in  this 
state — that  aint  the  word,  but  it  means  the  same  thing, 
not  having  your  will  made,  and  I  aint  quite  sure  after  all 
that  would  be  right.  I  worked  and  saved,  and  I  had 
some  when  we  were  married,  but  husband  had  farsight, 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE   GIRLS.     205 

and  knew  how  to  turn  it  over.  Some  of  his  money  ought 
to  go  back  to  his  folks." 

This  had  been  one  of  the  decisions  haunting  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla's  conscience.  Down  at  the  bottom  she  had  a  strict 
sense  of  justice. 

"  It  is  hardly  nice  to  go  there  any  more,"  said  Aunt 
Elizabeth.  "  And  I  shall  not  enjoy  a  young  girl  like 
Betty  running  over  there,  if  Aunt  Priscilla  shouldn't  be 
very  well,  and  she  is  breaking.  Polly  gets  worse  and 
really  is  not  to  be  trusted." 

It  was  Polly  after  all  who  settled  the  matter,  or  the 
summons  that  came  to  Polly  one  night.  For  in  the 
morning,  quite  late,  after  a  good  deal  of  calling  and 
scolding,  Aunt  Priscilla  found  she  had  taken  the  last 
journey.  It  was  a  great  shock.  Jonas  Field's  errand 
boy  was  dispatched  to  the  Leveretts'. 

The  woman  who  came  soon  gave  notice  that  she 
"  couldn't  stay  in  no  such  neighborhood  for  steady 
company." 

Mr.  Leverett  and  Cousin  Adams  urged  her  to  sell.  If 
there  should  be  war  she  might  not  have  a  chance  in  a 
long  while  again. 

"  But  I  don't  know  the  first  thing  in  the  world  to  do," 
she  moaned.  "  I  haven't  a  chick  nor  a  child  to  care 
about  me." 

"  Come  over  and  stop  with  us  a  bit  until  you  can  make 
some  plans.  There's  two  rooms  upstairs  in  which  you 
could  housekeep  if  you  wanted  to.  Our  family  gets 
smaller  all  the  time.  But  if  you  liked  to  live  with  us  a 
spell "  said  Mr.  Leverett. 

"  I  don't  know  how  'Lizabeth  could  stand  an  old 
woman  and  a  young  one  " — hesitatingly. 

"  If  you  mean  Doris,  she  is  going  over  to  Win- 
throp's,"  he  replied. 


206        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Ready  to  jump  at  the  chance,  I'll  warrant.  You 
can't  count  on  children." 

"  No,  Aunt  Priscilla,  she  didn't  jump.  She's  a  wise, 
fond  little  thing.  Win  asked  her  about  Christmas,  and 
she  wouldn't  consent  until  Betty  came  back,  for  fear  we 
would  be  lonesome.  It  quite  touched  me  when  I  heard 
of  it.  Win  has  some  ideas  about  her  education,  and  I 
guess  he's  nearer  right.  So  that  needn't  trouble  you. 
It  would  be  so  much  better  for  you  to  sell." 

"  I'll  think  it  orer,"  she  said  almost  gruffly,  for  she 
was  moved  herself.  "  I  never  could  get  along  with  this 
Rachel  Day.  She  doesn't  allow  that  anyone  in  the  world 
knows  anything  but  herself,  and  I  kept  house  before  she 
was  born.  I  don't  like  quite  such  smart  people." 

Miss  Hetty  Perkins  came  in  to  offer  her  services  as 
housekeeper.  Every  now  and  then  she  had  "  edged 
round,"  as  Aunt  Priscilla  expressed  it.  Everybody  said 
Hetty  was  closer  than  the  skin,  but  then  she  had  no  one 
except  herself  to  depend  upon.  And  Amos  Perkins 
called  to  see  if  Aunt  Priscilla  had  anyone  she  could 
trust  to  do  her  business.  He  heard  she  was  going  to 
sell. 

"  I  haven't  made  up  my  mind,"  she  answered  tartly. 
She  was  not  fond  of  Amos  either. 

Then  the  would-be  purchaser  found  he  could  have  a 
place  two  doors  below.  He  did  not  like  it  as  well,  but  it 
would  answer. 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  was  bound  to  have  a  rum  shop  and  a 
sailor's  boarding-house  under  my  nose.  There'll  be  a 
crowd  of  men  hanging  round  and  fiddling  and  carousing 
half  the  night.  I  don't  see  what's  getting  into  Boston! 
Places  that  were  good  enough  twenty  year  ago  are  only 
fit  for  tramps,  and  decent  people  have  to  get  out  of  the 
way,  whether  they  will  or  no." 

Betty  came  home  the  last  of  March.     She  looked 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS  OF    LITTLE   GIRLS.     207 

taller — perhaps  it  was  because  she  wore  her  dresses  so 
long  and  her  hair  so  high.  She  had  a  pretty  new  frock — 
a  rich  warm  brown  ground,  with  little  flowers  in  green 
and  yellow  and  a  kind  of  dull  red  sprinkled  all  over  it. 
It  had  come  from  New  York,  and  was  called  delaine. 
She  had  discarded  her  homespun  woolen.  And,  oh,  how 
stylishly  pretty  she  was,  quite  like  the  young  ladies  at 
Madam  Royall's! 

She  held  Doris  to  her  heart  and  almost  smothered  her, 
kissing  her  fondly. 

"You  have  grown  lovely  by  the  minute!"  she  cried. 
"  I  was  so  afraid  someone  would  cut  your  hair.  'Lecty 
said  at  first  that  I  had  only  one  idea,  and  that  was  Doris 
Adams,  I  talked  about  you  so  much.  And  she's  wild 
to  see  you.  She's  quite  grand  and  full  of  fun,  altogether 
different  from  Mary.  Mary  holds  onto  every  penny 
until  I  should  think  she'd  pinch  it  thin.  And  I've  had 
the  most  magnificent  time,  though  Hartford  is  nothing 
compared  to  Boston.  It  is  like  a  country  place  where 
you  know  everybody  that  is  at  all  worth  knowing.  I 
have  such  lots  of  things  to  tell  you." 

It  came  rather  hard  to  take  up  the  old  routine  of  work, 
and  get  up  early  in  the  morning.  She  was  dismayed  by 
the  news  that  Aunt  Priscilla  was  coming  and  Doris 
going. 

"  Though  I  don't  know,"  she  declared  after  reflecting 
a  day  or  two  on  the  subject.  "  I'll  have  such  a  good 
excuse  to  go  to  Uncle  Win's,  and  we  can  have  delightful 
talks.  But  Aunt  Priscilla  is  certainly  a  dispensation  of 
Providence  equal  to  St.  Paul's  thorn  in  the  flesh." 

"  I've  made  her  some  visits  this  winter,  and  she  has 
been  real  nice,"  said  Doris.  "  I  shouldn't  mind  her  at 
all  now.  And  I  told  Uncle  Win  that  I  would  like  to  be 
two  little  girls,  so  one  could  stay  here.  I  love  Uncle  Win 
very  much.  I  love  your  father  too." 


2o8        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Is  there  anybody  in  the  whole  wide  world  you  do  not 
love?" 

Doris  flushed.  She  had  not  been  able  to  feel  very 
tenderly  toward  Mrs.  Manning,  and  Mrs.  Hollis  Lev- 
erett  talked  about  her  being  so  backward,  and  such  a 
"  meachin  "  little  thing. 

"  I  dare  say  if  the  truth  was  known,  her  mother  died 
of  consumption.  And  that  great  mop  of  hair  is  enough 
to  take  the  strength  out  of  any  child.  I  wouldn't  have  it 
on  Bessy's  head  for  an  hour,"  declared  Mrs.  Hollis. 

But  Bessy  told  her  in  a  confidential  whisper  that  she 
thought  her  curls  the  sweetest  thing  in  the  world,  and 
when  she  was  a  grown-up  young  lady  she  meant  to  curl 
her  hair  all  over  her  head. 

Doris  was  glad  Uncle  Winthrop  did  not  find  any  fault 
with  them. 

Of  course  she  should  be  sorry  to  go.  It  was  curious 
how  one  could  be  glad  and  sorry  in  a  breath. 

Mrs.  Leverett  went  over  to  Aunt  Priscilla's  to  help 
pack.  Oh,  the  boxes  and  bundles  and  bags!  They 
were  tied  up  and  labeled;  some  of  them  had  not  been 
opened  for  years.  Gowns  that  she  had  outgrown,  stock 
ings  she  had  knit,  petticoats  she  had  quilted — quite  a 
fashion  then. 

"  It's  lucky  we  have  a  big  garret,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett. 
"And  whatever  will  you  do  with  them?" 

"  There's  that  flax  wheel — it  was  grandmother's.  She 
was  like  Benjamin  Franklin,  who  gave  his  sister  Jane  a 
spinning  wheel  on  her  wedding  day:  she  gave  me  that. 
And  Jane's  gone,  though  I  did  hear  someone  bought  the 
wheel  for  a  sort  of  keepsake.  Oh,  Elizabeth,  I  don't 
know  what  you  will  do  with  all  this  old  trumpery!  " 

Elizabeth  hardly  knew  either.  It  was  good  to  have 
children  and  grandchildren  to  take  some  of  these  things, 
just  to  keep  one  from  hoarding  up.  Elizabeth,  sweet 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE   GIRLS.     209 

soul,  remembered  the  poor  at  her  gates  as  well.  But 
most  people  were  fond  of  holding  onto  everything  until 
their  latest  breath.  There  was  some  virtue  in  it,  for  the 
later  generations  had  many  priceless  heirlooms. 

One  of  the  south  rooms  was  emptied,  and  after  a  great 
deal  of  argument  Aunt  Priscilla  was  prevailed  upon  to 
use  her  best  chamber  furniture  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 
She  had  not  cared  much  for  the  housekeeping  project, 
and  decided  she  would  rather  board  a  while  until  she 
could  get  back  some  of  her  strength. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  Solomon?"  asked 
Doris. 

"  Well — I  don't  know.  Aunt  Elizabeth  doesn't  like 
cats  very  much.  He's  such  a  nice  fellow,  I  should  hate 
to  leave  him  behind  and  have  him  neglected.  But  it's 
bad  luck  to  move  cats." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  him." 

"  Would  you,  now?  He's  almost  like  a  human.  I've 
said  that  many  a  time;  and  he  went  round  asking  after 
Polly  just  as  plain  as  anyone  could.  I  declare,  it  made 
my  heart  ache.  Polly  had  been  a  capable  woman,  and 
Mr.  Perkins  bought  her,  so  I  didn't  feel  free  to  turn  her 
away  when  he  was  gone.  And  I'd  grown  used  to  a 
servant,  too.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done 
without  her  the  two  years  he  was  ailing.  Though  when 
she  came  to  be  forgetful  and  lose  her  judgment  it  did 
use  to  try  me.  But  I'm  glad  now  I  kept  her  to  the  end. 
I'd  borrowed  a  sight  of  trouble  thinking  what  I'd  do  if 
she  fell  sick,  and  I  might  just  as  well  have  trusted  the 
Lord  right  straight  along.  When  I  come  to  have  this 
other  creetur  ordering  everything,  and  making  tea  her 
way, — she  will  boil  it  and  you  might  as  well  give  me 
senna, — then  I  knew  Polly  had  some  sense  and  memory, 
after  all.  You  can't  think  how  I  miss  her!  I'm  sorry 
for  every  bit  of  fault  I've  found  these  last  two  years." 


2io        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Aunt  Priscilla  stopped  to  take  breath  and  wipe  her 
eyes.  Polly's  death  had  opened  her  mind  to  many 
things. 

Doris  sat  and  stroked  Solomon  and  rubbed  him  under 
the  throat.  Now  and  then  he  looked  up  with  an  intent, 
asking  gaze,  and  a  solemn  flick  of  one  ear,  as  if  he  said, 
"  Can't  you  tell  me  where  Polly  is  gone?  " 

"  You'd  have  to  ask  Uncle  Winthrop.  And  I  don't 
know  what  Miss  Recompense  would  say." 

"  She  likes  cats." 

"  Oh.    Well,  I'm  afraid  Uncle  Winthrop  doesn't." 

"  If  he  should"  tentatively. 

"  I  think  I'd  miss  Solomon  a  good  deal.  But  he'd  be 
a  bother  to  keep  at  the  Leveretts'.  I  would  like  him 
to  have  a  good  home.  And  he  is  very  fond  of  you." 

Uncle  Win  was  over  the  very  next  day,  and  Doris  laid 
the  case  before  him. 

"  I  like  the  picture  of  comfort  a  nice  cat  makes  before 
the  fire.  I  haven't  any  objection  to  cats  in  themselves. 
But  I  dislike  cat  hairs." 

"  Uncle  Win,  I  could  brush  you  off.  And  Solomon 
has  been  so  well  trained.  He  has  a  box  with  a  cushion, 
so  he  never  jumps  up  in  chairs.  And  he  has  a  piece  of 
blanket  on  the  rug  where  he  lies.  He  loves  me  so,  and 
Aunt  Elizabeth  can't  bear  cats.  Oh,  I  wish  I  might 
have  him." 

"  I'll  talk  to  Miss  Recompense.  She's  having  a  little 
room  fixed  up  for  you  just  off  of  hers.  It  opens  on  the 
hall,  and  it  has  a  window  where  you  can  see  the  sun  rise. 
I  think  through  the  summer  you  need  not  go  to  school, 
but  study  at  home  as  you  did  Christmas  week." 

"That  will  be  delightful!  And  I  shall  be  so  glad 
when  it  is  truly  spring." 

It  had  been  a  long  cold  winter,  but  now  there  were 
signs  everywhere  of  a  curious  awakening  among  the 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS   OF   LITTLE   GIRLS.     211 

maples.  Some  were  already  out  in  red  bloom.  The 
grass  had  begun  to  spring  up  in  its  soft  green,  though 
there  were  patches  of  ice  in  shady  places  and  a  broad 
skim  along  the  edge  of  the  Charles  River  marsh.  But 
the  bay  and  the  harbor  were  clear  and  beautiful. 

Betty  and  Doris  had  confidential  chats  after  they 
were  in  bed — in  very  low  tones,  lest  they  should  be 
heard. 

"  Everybody  would  be  shocked  to  see  how  really  gay 
Electa  is.  There  are  very  religious  people  in  Hartford, 
too,  who  begin  on  Saturday  night.  But  the  men  insist 
upon  parties  and  dinners,  and  they  bring  their  fashions 
up  from  New  York.  Boston  is  just  as  gay  in  some 
places,  and  Jane  Morse  has  had  a  splendid  time  this  win 
ter  going  to  dances.  The  gentlemen  who  come  to  Mr. 
King's  are  so  polite,  some  of  them  elegant.  I  envy 
'Lecty.  It's  just  the  kind  of  world  to  live  in." 

"  And  I  want  to  hear  about  your  pink  silk." 

"  I  left  it  at  'Lecty's.  It  was  too  gay  to  bring  home. 
It  would  have  frightened  everybody.  And  'Lecty  thinks 
of  going  to  New  York  next  winter,  and  if  she  does  she 
will  send  for  me.  I  should  have  had  to  rumple  it  all  up 
bringing  it  home,  and  I  don't  believe  I'd  had  a  chance  to 
wear  it.  I  have  the  other  two,  and  Mat  thought  the  blue 
and  white  one  very  pretty.  Mat  laughs  at  what  he  calls 
Puritanism,  and  says  the  world  is  growing  broader  and 
more  generous.  He- is  a  splendid  man  too,  and  though 
he  is  making  a  good  deal  of  money  he  doesn't  think  all 
the  time  of  saving,  as  Mary  and  her  husband  do.  He  is 
good  to  the  poor,  and  generous  and  kind,  and  wants 
everyone  to  be  happy.  Of  course  they  go  to  church, 
but  there  is  a  curious  difference.  I  sometimes  wonder 
who  is  right  and  if  it  is  a  sin  to  be  happy." 

Doris'  mind  had  no  especial  theological  bent,  and  her 
conscience  had  not  been  trained  to  keep  on  the  alert. 


212        A    LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  It  was  very  nice  in  him  to  give  it  to  you.  And  you 
must  have  looked  lovely  in  it." 

"  Oh,  the  frock,"  Betty  laughed.  "  Yes,  I  did.  And 
when  you  know  you  look  nice  you  stop  feeling  anxious 
about  it.  It  was  just  so  at  Jane's  party.  But  I  should 
have  been  mortified  in  my  gray  woolen  gown.  Well — 
the  mortification  may  be  good,  but  it  isn't  pleasant.  I 
wore  the  pink  silk  to  the  weddings  and  to  some  dinners. 
Dinners  are  quite  grand  things  there,  but  they  last  so 
long  I  should  call  them  suppers.  And  sometimes 
there  is  a  grand  march  afterward,  which  is  a  kind  of 
stately  dancing.  It  has  been  just  delightful.  I  don't 
know  how  I  will  settle  down  and  wash  and  iron  and 
scrub.  But  I  would  a  great  deal  rather  be  in  'Lecty's 
place  than  in  Mary's,  and  saving  up  money  to  buy  farms 
isn't  everything  to  life.  I  think  the  Mannings  worship 
their  farms  and  stock  a  good  deal  more  than  'Lecty  and 
Mat  do  their  fine  house  and  their  money  and  all." 

Her  admirers  and  her  conquests  she  confided  to  Janie 
Morse.  There  was  one  very  charming  young  man  that 
she  liked  a  great  deal,  but  her  sister  said  she  was  too 
young  to  keep  company,  and  there  might  be  next  winter 
in  New  York. 

It  spoke  volumes  for  the  wholesome,  sensible  nature  of 
Betty  Leverett  that  she  could  take  her  olden  place  in  the 
household,  assist  her  mother,  and  entertain  her  father 
with  the  many  interesting  events  of  her  gay  and  happy 
winter. 


IN   THE    SPRING.  213 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

IN     THE     SPRING. 

HP  HE  matter  had  settled  itself  so  easily  that  Doris  could 
*  not  find  much  opportunity  for  sorrow,  nor  misgiv 
ings  for  her  joy.  She  could  not  see  the  struggle  there 
had  been  in  Uncle  Leverett's  mind,  and  the  sturdy  com 
mon  sense  that  had  come  to  his  assistance.  He  could 
recall  habits  of  second-cousin  Charles  that  were  like  a 
woman's  for  daintiness,  and  Winthrop  Adams  had  the 
same  touch  of  refinement  and  delicacy.  It  was  in  the 
Adams  blood,  doubtless.  Aunt  Priscilla  had  not  a  large 
share,  but  he  had  noted  some  of  it  in  Elizabeth.  It  per 
vaded  every  atom  of  Doris'  slender  body  and  every  cell 
of  her  brain.  She  never  would  take  to  the  rougher, 
coarser  things  of  life;  indeed,  why  should  she  when  there 
was  no  need?  He  had  wandered  so  far  from  the  ortho 
dox  faith  that  he  began  to  question  useless  discipline. 

Winthrop  could  understand  and  care  for  her  better. 
She  would  grow  up  in  his  house  to  the  kind  of  girl  nature 
had  meant  her  to  be.  Here  the  useful,  that  might  never 
come  in  use,  would  be  mingled  and  confused  with  what 
was  necessary.  He  had  watched  her  trying  to  achieve 
the  stocking  that  all  little  girls  could  knit  at  her  age.  It 
was  as  bad  as  Penelope's  web.  Aunt  Elizabeth  pulled  it 
out  after  she  had  gone  to  bed,  and  knit  two  or  three 
"  rounds,"  so  as  not  to  utterly  discourage  her  inapt  pupil. 
But  Doris  had  set  up  some  lace  on  a  "  cushion,"  after 
Madam  Sheafe's  direction,  and  it  grew  a  web  of  beauty 
under  her  dainty  fingers. 

It  was  not  as  if  Doris  would  be  quite  lost  to  them. 
They  would  see  her  every  day  or  two.  And  when  it  was 


214        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

decided  that  Aunt  Priscilla  would  come  he  was  really 
glad.  Aunt  Priscilla's  captious  talk  did  not  always  pro 
ceed  from  an  unkindly  heart. 

Betty  made  a  violent  protest  at  first. 

"  After  all,  it  will  not  be  quite  so  bad  as  I  thought," 
she  admitted  presently.  "  I  shall  go  to  Uncle  Win's 
twice  as  often,  and  I  have  always  been  so  fond  of  him. 
And  things  are  prettier  there,  somehow.  There  is  a 
great  difference  in  the  way  people  live,  and  I  mean  to 
change  some  things.  It  isn't  because  one  is  ashamed  to 
be  old-fashioned;  some  of  the  old  ways  are  lovely.  It  is 
only  when  you  tack  hardness  and  commonness  on  them 
and  think  ugliness  has  a  real  virtue  in  it.  We  will  have 
both  sides  to  talk  about.  But  if  you  were  going  back  to 
England,  it  would  break  my  heart,  Doris." 

Doris  winked  some  tears  out  of  her  eyes. 

She  thought  her  room  at  Uncle  Win's  was  like  a 
picture.  The  wall  was  whitewashed:  people  thought 
then  it  was  much  healthier  for  sleeping  chambers.  The 
floor  was  painted  a  rather  palish  yellow.  There  was  only 
one  window,  but  the  door  was  opposite,  and  a  door  that 
opened  into  the  room  of  Miss  Recompense.  The  win 
dow  had  white  curtains  with  ruffled  edges,  made  of  rather 
coarse  muslin,  but  it  was  clear,  and  looked  very  tidy. 
Miss  Recompense  had  found  a  small  bedstead  among  the 
stored-away  articles.  It  had  high  posts  and  curtains 
and  valance  of  pale-blue  flowered  chintz.  There  was  a 
big  bureau,  a  dressing  table  covered  with  white,  and  a 
looking  glass  prettily  draped.  At  the  top  of  this,  sur 
mounted  by  a  gilt  eagle,  was  a  marvelous  picture  of  a 
man  with  a  blue  coat  and  yellow  smallclothes  handing 
into  a  boat  a  lady  who  wore  a  skirt  of  purple  and  an 
overdress  of  scarlet,  very  much  betrimmed,  holding  a 
green  parasol  over  her  head  with  one  hand  and  placing 
a  slippered  foot  on  the  edge  of  the  boat.  After  a  long 


IN   THE   SPRING.  215 

while  Doris  thought  she  should  be  much  relieved  to  have 
them  sail  off  somewhere. 

There  were  two  quaint  rush-bottomed  chairs  and  a 
yellow  stool,  such  as  we  tie  with  ribbons  and  call  a  milk 
ing  stool.  A  nice  warm  rug  lay  at  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and  a  smaller  one  at  the  washing  stand.  These  were 
woven  like  rag  carpet,  but  made  of  woolen  rags  with 
plenty  of  ends  standing  up  all  over,  like  the  surface  of  a 
Moquette  carpet.  They  were  considered  quite  hand 
some  then,  as  they  were  more  trouble  than  braided  rugs, 
and  so  soft  to  the  foot.  Some  strenuous  housekeepers 
declared  them  terrible  dust  catchers. 

Doris'  delight  in  the  room  amply  repaid  Miss  Recom 
pense.  She  had  learned  her  way  about,  and  could  come 
down  alone,  now  that  the  weather  had  grown  pleasanter, 
and  she  was  full  of  joy  over  everything.  Occasionally 
Uncle  Winthrop  would  be  out,  then  she  and  Miss 
Recompense  would  have  what  they  called  a  "  nice  talk." 

Miss  Recompense  Gardiner  was  quite  sure  she  had 
never  seen  just  such  a  child.  Indeed  at  five-and-forty 
she  was  rather  set  in  her  ways,  disliked  noise  and  bustle, 
and  could  not  bear  to  have  a  house  "  torn  up,"  as  she 
phrased  it.  Twelve  years  before  she  had  come  here  to 
"  housekeep,"  as  the  old  phrase  went.  She  had  not 
lacked  admirers,  but  she  had  been  very  particular.  Her 
sisters  said  she  was  a  born  old  maid.  There  was  in  her 
soul  a  great  love  of  refinement  and  order. 

Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  just  suited  her.  He  was  quiet, 
neat,  made  no  trouble,  and  did  not  smoke.  That  was  a 
wretched  habit  in  her  estimation.  Cousin  Charles  used 
to  come  over,  and  different  branches  of  the  family  were 
invited  in  now  and  then  to  tea.  Cary  was  a  rather 
proper,  well-ordered  boy,  trained  by  his  mother's  sister, 
who  had  married  and  gone  away  just  before  the  advent 
of  Miss  Gardiner.  There  had  been  some  talk  that  Mr. 


216       A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

Winthrop  might  espouse  Miss  Harriet  Gary  in  the  course 
of  time,  but  as  there  were  no  signs,  and  Miss  Gary  had  an 
excellent  offer  of  marriage,  she  accepted  it. 

Gary  went  to  the  Latin  School  and  then  to  Harvard. 
He  was  a  fair  average  boy,  a  good  student,  and  ready 
for  his  share  of  fun  at  any  time.  His  father  had  marked 
out  his  course,  which  was  to  be  law,  and  Gary  was  indif 
ferent  as  to  what  he  took  up. 

So  they  had  gone  on  year  after  year.  It  promised  a 
pleasant  break  to  have  the  little  girl. 

The  greatest  trouble,  Miss  Recompense  thought,  would 
be  making  Solomon  feel  at  home.  Doris  brought  his 
cushion,  and  the  box  he  slept  in  at  night  was  sent. 
Warren  brought  him  over  in  a  bag  and  they  put  him  in 
the  closet  for  the  night.  He  uttered  some  pathetic  wails, 
and  Doris  talked  to  him  until  he  quieted  down.  He  was 
a  good  deal  frightened  the  next  morning,  but  he  clung 
to  Doris,  who  carried  him  about  in  her  arms  and  intro 
duced  him  to  every  place.  He  was  afraid  of  Mr.  Adams 
and  Cato,  his  acquaintance  with  men  having  been  rather 
limited.  After  several  days  he  began  to  feel  quite  at 
home,  and  took  cordially  to  his  cushion  in  the  corner. 

"  He  doesn't  offer  to  run  away,"  announced  Doris  to 
Aunt  Priscilla.  "  He  likes  Miss  Recompense.  Uncle 
Winthrop  thinks  him  the  handsomest  cat  he  has  ever 
seen." 

"  Poor  old  Polly !  She  set  a  great  deal  of  store  by 
Solomon.  I  never  did  care  much  for  a  cat,  but  I  do 
think  Solomon  was  most  as  wise  as  folks.  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  have  done  last  winter  when  I  was  so 
miserable  if  it  had  not  been  for  him.  He  seemed  to  take 
such  comfort  that  it  was  almost  as  good  as  a  sermon. 
And  sometimes  when  he  purred  it  was  like  the  sound  of 
a  hymn  with  the  up  and  down  and  the  long  notes.  I 
don't  believe  he  would  have  stayed  with  anyone  else 


IN   THE    SPRING.  217 

though.  Child,  what  is  there  about  you  that  just  goes 
to  the  heart  of  even  a  dumb  beast  ?  " 

Doris  looked  amazed,  then  thoughtful.  "  I  suppose  it 
is  because  I  love  them,"  she  said  simply. 

There  was  a  great  stir  everywhere,  it  seemed.  The 
slow  spring  had  really  come  at  last.  The  streets  were 
being  cleared  up,  the  gardens  put  in  order,  some  of  the 
houses  had  a  fresh  coat  of  paint ;  the  stores  put  out  their 
best  array,  the  trees  were  misty-looking  with  tiny  green 
shoots,  and  the  maples  Doris  thought  wonderful.  There 
were  four  in  the  row  on  Common  Street;  one  was  full 
of  soft  dull-red  blooms,  one  had  little  pale-green  hoods 
on  the  end  of  every  twig,  another  looked  as  if  it  held  a 
tiny  scarlet  parasol  over  each  baby  bud,  and  the  fourth 
dropped  clusters  of  brownish-green  fringe. 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful  they  are!  "  cried  Doris,  her  eyes 
alight  with  enthusiasm. 

And  then  all  the  great  Common  began  to  put  on  spring 
attire.  The  marsh  grass  over  beyond  sent  up  stiff  green 
spikes  and  tussocks  that  looked  like  little  islands,  and 
there  were  water  plants  with  large  leaves  that  seemed 
continually  nodding  to  their  neighbors.  The  frog  con 
certs  at  the  pond  were  simply  bewildering  with  the 
variety  of  voices,  each  one  proclaiming  that  the  reign  of 
ice  and  snow  was  at  an  end  and  they  were  giving  thanks. 

"  They  are  so  glad,"  declared  Doris.  "  I  shouldn't 
like  to  be  frozen  up  all  winter  in  a  little  hole." 

Miss  Recompense  smiled.  Perhaps  they  were  grate 
ful.  She  had  never  thought  of  it  before. 

Doris  did  not  go  back  to  Mrs.  Webb's  school,  though 
that  lady  said  she  was  sorry  to  give  her  up.  Uncle  Win 
gave  her  some  lessons,  and  she  went  to  writing  school 
for  an  hour  every  day.  Miss  Recompense  instructed  her 
how  to  keep  her  room  tidy,  but  Uncle  Win  said  there 
would  be  time  enough  for  her  to  learn  housekeeping. 


2i8        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Then  there  were  hunts  for  flowers.  Betty  came  over; 
she  knew  some  nooks  where  the  trailing  arbutus  grew 
and  bloomed.  The  swamp  pinks  and  the  violets  of  every 
shade  and  almost  every  size — from  the  wee  little  fellow 
who  sheltered  his  head  under  his  mother's  leaf-green 
umbrella  to  the  tall,  sentinel-like  fellow  who  seemed  to 
fling  out  defiance.  Doris  used  to  come  home  with  her 
hands  full  of  blooms. 

The  rides  too  were  delightful.  They  went  over  the 
bridges  to  West  Boston  and  South  Boston  and  to  Cam 
bridge,  going  through  the  college  buildings — small,  in 
deed,  compared  with  the  magnificent  pile  of  to-day.  But 
Boston  did  seem  almost  like  a  collection  of  islands.  The 
bays  and  rivers,  the  winding  creeks  that  crept  through 
the  green  marsh  grass,  the  long  low  shores  held  no  pre 
sentiment  of  the  great  city  that  was  to  be. 

Although  people  groaned  over  hard  times  and  talked 
of  war,  still  the  town  kept  a  thriving  aspect.  Men  were 
at  work  leveling  Beacon  Hill.  Boylston  Street  was 
being  made  something  better  than  a  lane,  and  Common 
Street  was  improved.  Uncle  Winthrop  said  next  thing 
he  supposed  they  would  begin  to  improve  him  and  order 
him  to  take  up  his  house  and  walk.  For  houses  were 
moved  even  then,  when  they  stood  in  the  way  of  a 
street. 

The  earth  from  the  hill,  or  rather  hills,  went  to  fill  in 
the  Mill  Pond.  Lord  Lyndhurst  had  once  owned  a  large 
part,  but  he  had  gone  to  England  to  live.  Charles  Street 
was  partly  laid  out — as  far  as  the  flats  were  filled  in.  It 
was  quite  entertaining  to  watch  the  great  patient  oxen, 
which,  when  they  were  standing  still,  chewed  their  cud  in 
solemn  content  and  gazed  around  as  though  they  could 
predict  unutterable  things. 

From  the  house  down  to  Common  Street  was  a  kind 
of  garden  where  Cato  raised  vegetables  and  Miss  Recom- 


IN   THE   SPRING.  219 

pense  had  her  beds  of  sweet  and  medicinal  herbs.  For 
then  the  housekeeper  concocted  various  household  reme 
dies,  and  made  extracts  by  the  use  of  a  little  still  for 
flavoring  and  perfumery.  She  gathered  all  the  rose 
leaves  and  lavender  blossoms  and  sewed  them  up  in  thin 
muslin  bags  and  laid  them  in  the  drawers  and  closets. 

And,  oh,  what  roses  she  had  then!  Great  sweet 
damask  roses,  pink  and  the  loveliest  deep  red,  twice  as 
large  as  the  Jack  roses  of  to-day.  And  trailing  pink  and 
white  roses  climbing  over  everything.  Aunt  Elizabeth 
said  Miss  Recompense  could  make  a  dry  stick  grow  and 
bloom. 

Uncle  Winthrop  found  a  new  and  charming  interest 
in  the  little  girl.  She  was  so  fond  of  taking  walks  and 
hearing  the  legends  about  the  old  places.  She  could  see 
where  the  old  beacon  had  stood  when  the  place  was 
called  Sentry  Hill,  and  she  knew  it  had  been  blown  down 
in  a  gale,  and  that  on  the  spot  had  been  erected  a 
beautiful  Doric  column  surmounted  by  an  eagle,  to 
commemorate  "  the  train  of  events  that  led  to  the 
American  Revolution  and  finally  secured  liberty  and 
Independence." 

But  the  State  House  had  made  one  great  excavation, 
and  the  Mill  Pond  Corporation  was  making  others,  and 
they  were  planning  to  remove  the  monument. 

"  We  ought  to  have  more  regard  for  these  old  places," 
Uncle  Win  used  to  say  with  a  sigh. 

Gary  had  not  been  a  companionable  child.  He  was  a 
regular  boy,  and  the  great  point  of  interest  in  Sentry 
Hill  for  him  was  batting  a  ball  up  the  hill.  It  was  a 
proud  day  for  him  when  he  carried  it  farther  than  any 
other  boy.  He  was  fond  of  games  of  all  kinds,  and  was 
one  of  the  fleetest  runners  and  a  fine  oarsman,  and  could 
sail  a  boat  equal  to  any  old  salt,  he  thought.  He  was  a 
boy,  of  course,  and  Uncle  Win  did  not  want  him  to  be  a 


220        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Molly  coddle,"  so  he  gave  in,  for  he  did  not  quite  know 
what  to  do  with  a  lad  who  could  tumble  more  books 
around  in  five  minutes  than  he  could  put  in  order  in  half 
an  hour,  and  knew  more  about  every  corner  in  Old  Bos 
ton  than  anyone  else,  and  was  much  more  confident  of 
his  knowledge. 

But  this  little  girl,  who  soon  learned  the  peculiarity  of 
every  tree,  the  song  of  the  different  birds,  and  the  sea 
son  of  bloom  for  wild  flowers,  and  could  listen  for  hours 
to  the  incidents  of  the  past,  that  seem  of  more  vital  im 
portance  to  middle-aged  people  than  the  matters  of 
every  day,  was  a  veritable  treasure  to  Mr.  Winthrop 
Adams.  He  did  not  mind  if  she  could  not  knit  a  stock 
ing,  and  he  sometimes  excused  her  deficiencies  in  arith 
metic  because  she  was  so  fond  of  hearing  him  read 
poetry.  For  Doris  thought,  of  all  the  things  in  the 
world,  being  able  to  write  verses  was  the  most  delightful, 
and  that  was  her  aim  when  she  was  a  grown-up  young 
lady.  She  did  pick  up  a  good  deal  of  general  knowledge 
that  she  would  not  have  acquired  at  school,  but  Uncle 
Win  wasn't  quite  sure  how  much  a  girl  ought  to  be 
educated. 

She  began  to  see  considerable  of  the  Chapman  girls, 
and  Madam  Royall  grew  very  fond  of  her.  But  she  did 
not  forget  her  dear  friends  in  Sudbury  Street.  Some 
times  when  Uncle  Win  was  going  out  to  a  supper  or  to 
stay  away  all  the  evening  she  would  go  up  and  spend 
the  night  with  Betty,  and  sit  in  the  old  corner,  for  it  was 
Uncle  Leverett's  favorite  place  whether  there  was  fire 
or  not.  He  was  as  fond  as  ever  of  listening  to  her 
chatter. 

She  always  brought  a  message  to  Aunt  Priscilla  about 
Solomon.  Uncle  Winthrop  thought  him  the  hand 
somest  cat  he  had  ever  seen,  and  now  Solomon  was  not 
even  afraid  of  Cato,  but  would  walk  about  the  garden 


IN   THE   SPRING.  221 

with  him,  and  Miss  Recompense  said  he  was  so  much 
company  when  she,  Doris,  was  out  of  the  house. 

Indeed,  he  would  look  at  her  with  inquiring  eyes  and 
a  soft,  questioning  sound  in  his  voice  that  was  not  quite 
a  mew. 

"  Yes,"  Miss  Recompense  would  say,  "  Doris  has  gone 
up  to  Sudbury  Street.  We  miss  her,  don't  we,  Solomon? 
It's  a  different  house  without  her." 

Solomon  would  assent  in  a  wise  fashion. 

"  I  never  did  think  to  take  comfort  in  talking  to  a  cat," 
Miss  Recompense  would  say  to  herself  with  a  touch  of 
sarcasm. 

About  the  middle  of  June,  when  roses  and  spice  pinks 
and  ten-weeks'  stocks,  and  sweet-williams  were  at  their 
best,  Mr.  Adams  always  gave  a  family  gathering  at 
which  cousins  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation  were 
invited.  Everything  was  at  its  loveliest,  and  the  Mall 
just  across  the  street  was  resplendent  in  beauty.  Even 
then  it  had  magnificent  trees  and  great  stretches  of  grass, 
green  and  velvety.  Already  it  was  a  favorite  strolling 
place. 

Miss  Recompense  had  sent  a  special  request  for  Betty 
on  that  particular  afternoon  and  evening.  There  was 
to  be  a  high  tea  at  five  o'clock. 

"  I  shall  have  my  new  white  frock  all  done,"  said  Betty 
delightedly.  "  There  is  just  a  little  needlework  around 
the  neck  and  the  skirt  to  sew  on." 

"  But  I  wouldn't  wear  it,"  rejoined  her  mother. 
"  You  may  get  a  fruit  stain  on  it,  or  meet  with  some 
accident.  Miss  Recompense  will  expect  you  to  work  a 
little." 

"  Have  you  anything  new,  Doris?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Doris.  "  A  white  India  muslin, 
and  a  cambric  with  a  tiny  rosebud  in  it.  Madam  Royall 
chose  them  and  ordered  them  made.  And,  Betty,  I  have 


222        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

almost  outgrown  the  silk  already.  Madam  Royall  is 
going  to  see  about  getting  it  altered.  And  in  the 
autumn  Helen  Chapman  will  have  a  birthday  company, 
and  I  am  invited  already,  or  my  frock  is,"  and  Doris 
laughed.  "  She  has  made  me  promise  to  wear  it  then." 

"  You  go  to  the  Royalls'  a  good  deal,"  exclaimed  Aunt 
Priscilla  jealously.  She  was  sitting  in  a  high-backed 
chair,  very  straight  and  prim.  She  was  not  quite  at 
home  yet,  and  kept  wondering  if  she  wouldn't  rather  have 
her  own  house  if  she  could  get  a  reasonable  sort  of  serv 
ant.  Still,  she  did  enjoy  the  sociable  side  of  life,  and  it 
was  pleasant  here  at  Cousin  Leverett's.  They  all  tried  to 
make  her  feel  at  home,  and  though  Betty  tormented  her 
sometimes  by  a  certain  argumentativeness,  she  was  very 
ready  to  wait  on  her.  Aunt  Priscilla  did  like  to  hear  of 
the  delightful  entertainments  her  silk  gown  had  gone  to 
after  being  hidden  away  so  many  years.  As  for  the  hat, 
a  young  Englishman  had  said  "  She  looked  like  a  prin 
cess  in  it." 

"  You  are  just  eaten  up  with  vanity,  Betty  Leverett," 
Aunt  Priscilla  tried  to  rejoin  in  her  severest  tone. 

Doris  glanced  over  to  her  now. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Uncle  Winthrop  thinks  I 
ought  to  know  something  about  little  girls.  Eudora  is 
six  months  older  than  I  am.  They  have  such  a  magnifi 
cent  swing,  four  girls  can  sit  in  it.  Helen  is  studying 
French  and  the  young  ladies  can  talk  a  little.  They  do 
not  see  how  I  can  talk  so  fast." 

Doris  laughed  gleefully.  Aunt  Priscilla  sniffed. 
Winthrop  Adams  would  make  a  flighty,  useless  girl  out 
of  her.  And  companying  so  much  with  rich  people 
would  fill  her  mind  with  vanity.  Yes,  the  child  would  be 
ruined! 

"  And  we  tell  each  other  stories  about  our  Boston. 
This  Boston,"  making  a  pretty  gesture  with  her  hand, 


IN   THE   SPRING.  223 

"  has  the  most  splendid  ones  about  the  war  and  all,  and 
the  ships  coming  over  here  almost  two  hundred  years 
ago.  It  is  a  long  while  to  live  one  hundred  years,  even. 
But  I  knew  about  Mr.  Cotton  and  the  lady  Arabella 
Johnston.  They  had  not  heard  about  the  saint  and  how 
his  body  was  carried  around  to  make  it  rain." 

"  To  make  it  rain!  Whose  body  was  it,  pray?  "  asked 
Aunt  Priscilla  sharply,  scenting  heresy.  She  was  not 
quite  sure  but  so  much  French  would  shut  one  out  from 
final  salvation.  "  Did  you  have  saints  in  Old  Boston?  " 

"Oh,  it  was  the  old  Saint  of  the  Church— St.  Botolph." 
Doris  hesitated  and  glanced  up  at  Uncle  Leverett,  who 
nodded.  "  He  was  a  very,  very  good  man,"  she  resumed 
seriously.  "  And  one  summer  there  was  a  very  long 
drought.  The  grass  all  dried  up,  the  fruit  began  to  fall 
off,  and  they  were  afraid  there  would  be  nothing  for  the 
cattle  to  feed  upon.  So  they  took  up  St.  Botolph  in  his 
coffin  and  carried  him  all  around  the  town,  praying  as 
they  went.  And  it  began  to  rain." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense!  The  idea  of  reasonable  human 
beings  believing  that!  " 

"  But  you  know  the  prophet  prayed  for  rain  in  the 
Bible." 

"  But  to  take  up  his  body !  Are  they  doing  it  now  in 
a  dry  time?"  Aunt  Priscilla  asked  sarcastically. 

"  They  don't  now,  but  it  was  said  they  did  it  several 
times,  and  it  always  rained." 

"  They  wan't  good  orthodox  Christians.  No  one  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing." 

"  But  our  orthodox  Christians  believed  in  witches — 
even  the  descendants  of  this  very  John  Cotton  who  came 
over  to  escape  the  Lords  Bishops,"  said  Warren. 

"  And,  unlike  Mr.  Blacksone,  stayed  and  had  a  hard 
time  with  the  Lords  Brethren,"  said  Mr.  Leverett.  "  I 
hardly  know  which  was  the  worst  " — smiling  with  a 


224        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

glint  of  humor.  "  And  you  more  than  half  believe  in 
witches  yourself,  Aunt  Priscilla." 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  reason  to.  Grandmother  Parker 
was  a  good  woman  if  ever  there  was  one,  and  she  was 
bewitched.  And  would  it  have  said  in  the  Bible — '  Thou 
shalt  not  suffer  a  witch  to  live/  if  there  had  not  been 
any?" 

"  They  were  telling  stories  at  Madam  Royall's  one  day. 
And  sometime  Uncle  Winthrop  is  going  to  take  us  all 
to  Marblehead,  where  Mammy  Redd  lived.  Eudora  said 
this: 

"'  Old  Mammy  Redd 
Of  Marblehead 
Sweet  milk  could  turn 
To  mold  in  churn.' 

And  Uncle  Winthrop  has  a  big  book  about  them." 

"  He  had  better  take  you  to  Salem.  That  was  the 
very  hotbed  of  it  all,"  said  Warren. 

Doris  came  around  to  Aunt  Priscilla.  "  Did  your 
grandmother  really  see  a  witch?"  she  asked  in  a  serious 
tone. 

"  Well,  perhaps  she  didn't  exactly  see  it.  But  she 
was  living  at  Salem  and  had  a  queer  neighbor.  One 
day  they  had  some  words,  and  when  grandmother  went 
to  churn  her  milk  turned  all  moldy  and  spoiled  the  but 
ter.  Grandmother  didn't  even  dare  feed  it  to  the  pigs. 
So  it  went  on  several  times.  Then  another  neighbor  said 
to  her,  'The  next  time  it  happens  you  just  throw  a  dipper- 
full  over  the  back  log.'  And  so  grandmother  did.  It 
made  an  awful  smell  and  smoke.  Then  she  washed  out 
her  churn  and  put  it  away.  She  was  barely  through 
when  someone  came  running  in,  and  said, '  Have  you  any 
sweet  oil,  Mrs.  Parker?  Hetty  Lane  set  herself  afire 
cleaning  the  cinders  out  of  her  oven,  and  she's  dreadfully 
burned.  Come  right  over.'  Grandmother  was  a  little 


IN   THE    SPRING.  225 

afraid,  but  she  went,  and,  sure  enough,  it  had  happened 
just  the  moment  she  threw  the  milk  in  the  fire.  One 
side  of  her  was  burned,  and  one  hand.  And  although 
the  neighbors  suspected  her,  they  were  all  very  kind  to 
her  while  she  was  ill.  But  grandmother  had  no  more 
trouble  after  that,  and  it  was  said  Hetty  Lane  never  be 
witched  anybody  again." 

"  It's  something  like  the  kelpies  and  brownies  Barby 
used  to  tell  about  that  were  in  England  long  time  ago," 
said  Doris,  big-eyed.  "  They  hid  tools  and  ate  up  the 
food  and  spoiled  the  milk  and  the  bread,  turning  it  to 
stone.  They  went  away — perhaps  someone  burned 
them  up." 

Aunt  Priscilla  gave  her  sniff.  To  be  compared  with 
such  childish  stuff! 

"  It  was  very  curious,"  said  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  I  have 
always  been  glad  I  was  not  alive  at  that  time.  Some 
times  unaccountable  things  happen." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  truly  witch  yourself,  Aunt  Pris 
cilla?  "  asked  the  child. 

"  No,  I  never  did,"  she  answered  honestly. 

"  Then  I  guess  they  did  go  with  the  fairies  and  kelpies. 
Could  I  tell  your  story  over  sometime?  "  she  inquired 
eagerly. 

Telling  ghost  stories  and  witch  stories  was  quite  an 
amusement  at  that  period. 

"  Why,  yes — if  you  want  to."  She  was  rather  pleased 
to  have  it  go  to  the  Royalls'. 

"  The  last  stitch,"  and  Betty  folded  up  her  work. 
"  Come,  Doris,  say  good-night,  and  let  us  go  to  bed." 

Doris  put  a  little  kiss  on  Aunt  Priscilla's  wrinkled 
hand. 


226       A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 
CHAPTER  XV. 

A    FREEDOM    SUIT. 

A  UNT  PRISCILLA  had  a  dozen  changes  of  mind  as 
•**•  to  whether  to  go  to  Cousin  Adams'  or  not.  But 
Betty  insisted.  She  trimmed  her  cap  and  altered  the 
sleeves  of  her  best  black  silk  gown.  The  elderly  people 
were  wearing  "  leg-o'-mutton  "  sleeves  now,  while  the 
young  people  had  great  puffs.  Long  straight  Puritan 
sleeves  were  hardly  considered  stylish.  And  then 
Cousin  Win  sent  the  chaise  up  for  her. 

Mrs.  March,  Gary's  aunt,  had  come  up  to  Boston  to 
make  a  little  visit.  Mr.  March  was  a  ship  builder  at 
Plymouth.  She  was  quite  anxious  to  see  this  cousin 
that  Cary  had  talked  about  so  much,  and  she  was  almost 
jealous  lest  he  should  be  crowded  out  of  his  rightful 
place.  She  had  no  children  of  her  own,  but  her  hus 
band  had  four  when  they  were  married.  So  a  kind  of 
motherly  sympathy  still  went  out  to  Cary. 

Betty  came  over  in  the  morning.  She  and  Miss 
Recompense  were  always  very  friendly.  They  talked  of 
jells  and  jams  and  preserves;  it  was  too  early  for  any 
fresh  fruit  except  strawberries,  and  Cato  always  took  a 
good  deal  of  pains  to  have  these  of  the  very  nicest. 

The  wide  fireplace  was  filled  in  with  green  boughs  and 
the  shining  leaves  of  "bread  and  butter."  The  rugs  were 
taken  up  and  the  floor  had  a  coat  of  polish.  The  parlor 
was  wide  open,  arrayed  in  the  stately  furnishings  of  a 
century  ago.  There  were  two  Louis  XIV.  chairs  that 
had  really  come  from  France.  There  were  some  square, 
heavy  pieces  of  furniture  that  we  should  call  Eastlake 
now.  And  the  extravagant  thing  was  a  Brussels  carpet 
with  a  scroll  centerpiece  and  a  border  in  arabesque. 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  227 

The  guests  began  to  come  at  two.  Miss  Recompense 
and  Betty  had  been  arranging  the  long  table  with  its 
thick  basket-work  cloth  that  was  fragrant  with  sweet 
scents.  Betty  wore  her  blue  and  white  silk,  as  that  had 
met  with  some  mishaps  at  Hartford.  Miss  Recompense 
had  on  a  brown  silk  with  a  choice  bit  of  thread  lace, 
and  a  thread  lace  cap.  Many  of  the  elderly  society 
ladies  wore  immense  headgears  like  turbans,  with  some 
times  one  or  two  marabou  feathers,  which  were  con 
sidered  extremely  elegant.  But  Miss  Recompense  kept 
to  her  small  rather  plain  cap,  and  looked  very  ladylike, 
quite  fit  to  do  the  honors  of  the  house. 

Some  of  the  cousins  had  driven  in  from  Cambridge 
and  South  Boston.  Miss  Cragie,  who  admired  her 
second-cousin  Adams  very  much,  and  it  was  said  would 
not  have  been  averse  to  a  marriage  with  him,  came  over 
from  the  old  house  that  had  once  been  Washington's 
headquarters  and  was  to  be  more  famous  still  as  the 
home  of  one  of  America's  finest  poets.  She  took  a  great 
interest  in  Gary  and  made  him  a  welcome  guest. 

We  should  call  it  a  kind  of  lawn  party  now.  The 
guests  flitted  around  the  garden  and  lawn,  inspected  the 
promising  fruit  trees,  and  were  enthusiastic  over  the 
roses.  Then  they  wandered  over  to  the  Mall  and  dis 
cussed  the  impending  changes  in  Boston,  and  said,  as 
people  nearly  always  do,  that  it  would  be  ruined  by  im 
provements.  It  was  sacrilegious  to  take  away  Beacon 
Hill.  It  was  absurd  to  think  of  filling  in  the  flats !  Who 
would  want  to  live  on  made  ground?  And  where  were 
all  the  people  to  come  from  to  build  houses  on  these 
wonderful  streets?  Why,  it  was  simply  ridiculous! 

There  were  some  young  men  who  felt  rather  awkward 
and  kept  in  a  little  knot  with  Gary.  There  were  a  few 
young  girls  who  envied  Betty  Leverett  her  at-homeness, 
and  the  fact  that  she  had  spent  a  winter  in  Hartford. 


228        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Croquet  would  have  been  a  boon  then,  to  make  a  breach 
in  the  walls  of  deadly  reserve. 

Elderly  men  smoked,  walked  about,  and  talked  of  the 
prospect  of  war.  Most  of  them  had  high  hopes  of  Presi 
dent  Madison  just  now. 

Doris  was  a  point  of  interest  for  everybody.  Her 
charming  simplicity  went  to  all  hearts.  Betty  had 
dressed  her  hair  a  dozen  different  ways,  but  found  none 
so  pretty  as  tying  part  of  the  curls  on  top  with  a  ribbon. 
She  had  grown  quite  a  little  taller,  but  was  still  slim  and 
fair. 

Miss  Cragie  took  a  great  fancy  to  her  and  said  she 
must  come  and  spend  the  day  with  her  and  visit  the 
notable  points  of  Cambridge.  And  next  year  Gary 
would  graduate,  and  she  supposed  they  would  have  a 
grand  time. 

The  supper  was  quite  imposing.  Cato's  nephew,  a 
tidy  young  colored  lad,  came  from  one  of  the  inns,  and 
acquitted  himself  with  superior  elegance.  It  was  indeed 
a  feast,  enlivened  with  bright  conversation.  People  ex 
pected  to  talk  then,  not  look  bored  and  indifferent. 
Each  one  brought  something  besides  appetite  to  the 
feast. 

Afterward  they  went  out  on  the  porch  and  sang,  the 
ice  being  broken  between  the  younger  part  of  the  com 
pany.  There  were  some  amusing  patriotic  songs  with 
choruses  that  inspired  even  the  older  people.  "  Hail, 
Columbia !  "  was  greeted  with  applause. 

There  were  sentimental  songs  as  well,  Scotch  and  old 
English  ballads.  Two  of  Cary's  friends  sang  "  Queen 
Mary's  Escape  "  with  a  great  deal  of  spirit.  Then  Uncle 
Win  asked  Doris  if  she  could  not  sing  a  little  French 
song  that  she  sang  for  him  quite  often,  and  that  was  set 
to  a  very  touching  melody. 

She  hung  back  and  colored  up,  but  she  did  want  to 


A   FREEDOM    SUIT.  229 

please  Uncle  Win.  She  was  standing  beside  him,  so 
she  straightened  up  and  took  a  step  out,  and  holding  his 
hand  sang  with  a  grace  that  went  to  each  heart.  But 
she  hid  herself  behind  Uncle  Win's  shoulder  when  the 
compliments  began.  Gary  came  around,  and  said  "  She 
need  not  be  afraid;  it  was  just  beautiful!  " 

After  that  the  company  began  to  disperse.  Every 
body  said  "  It  always  was  delightful  to  come  over  here," 
and  the  women  wondered  how  it  happened  that  such  an 
attractive  man  as  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  had  not  married 
again  and  had  someone  to  entertain  regularly. 

There  was  a  magnificent  full  moon,  and  the  air  was  de 
licious  with  fragrance.  One  after  another  drove  away, 
or  taking  the  arm  of  a  companion  uttered  a  cordial  good 
night.  Mr.  Adams  had  sent  some  elderly  friends  home 
in  a  carriage,  and  begged  the  Leveretts  to  wait  until  it 
came  back. 

Warren  had  not  been  very  intimate  with  the  young 
collegian;  their  walks  in  life  lay  quite  far  apart.  But 
Gary  came  and  joined  them  as  they  were  all  out  on  the 
porch. 

"  I  hope  you  had  a  pleasant  time,"  he  began.  "  If  it 
had  not  been  a  family  party  I  should  have  asked  the 
club  to  come  over  and  sing  some  of  the  college  songs. 
Arthur  Sprague  has  a  fine  voice.  And  you  sing  very 
well,  Warren." 

"  I  have  been  in  a  singing  class  this  winter,  I  like 
music  so  much." 

"  You  ought  to  hear  half  a  dozen  of  our  fellows  to 
gether!  But  this  little  bird  warbled  melodiously,"  and 
he  put  his  arm  over  the  shoulder  of  Doris.  "  I  did  not 
know  she  could  move  an  audience  so  deeply." 

"  I  was  so  frightened  at  first,"  began  Doris  with  a 
long  breath.  "  I  don't  mind  singing  for  Uncle  Win,  and 
one  day  when  there  were  some  guests  Madam  Royall 


230        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

asked  me  to  sing  a  little  French  song  she  had  known  in 
her  youth.  Isn't  it  queer  a  song  should  last  so 
long?  " 

"  The  fine  songs  ought  to  last  forever.  I  hope  we  will 
have  some  national  songs  presently  besides  the  ridicu 
lous  '  Yankee  Doodle.'  It  doesn't  seem  quite  so  bad 
when  it  is  played  by  the  band  and  men  are  marching 
to  it." 

Gary  straightened  himself  up.  Being  slender  he  often 
allowed  his  shoulders  to  droop. 

"  Now  you  look  like  a  soldier,"  exclaimed  Warren. 

"  I'd  like  to  be  one,  first-rate.  I'd  leave  college  now 
and  go  in  the  Navy  if  there  was  another  boy  to  follow 
out  father's  plans.  But  I  can't  bear  to  disappoint  him. 
It's  hard  to  go  against  your  father  when  you  are  all  he 
has.  So  I  suppose  I  will  go  on  and  study  law,  and  some 
day  you  will  hear  of  my  being  judge.  But  we  are  going 
to  have  a  big  war,  and  I  would  like  to  take  a  hand  in  it. 
I  wish  I  was  twenty-one." 

"  I  shall  be  next  month.  I  am  going  to  have  a  little 
company.  I'd  like  you  to  come,  Gary." 

"  I  just  will,  thank  you.     What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  I  shall  stay  with  father,  of  course.  I  have  been  learn 
ing  the  business.  I  think  I  shouldn't  like  to  go  to  war 
unless  the  enemy  really  came  to  us.  I  should  fight  for 
my  home." 

"  There  are  larger  questions  even  than  homes,"  re 
plied  Gary. 

Betty  came  around  the  corner  of  the  porch  with  Uncle 
Win,  to  whom  she  was  talking  in  her  bright,  energetic 
fashion.  Aunt  Elizabeth  said  it  was  very  pleasant  to  see 
so  many  of  the  relatives  again. 

"  The  older  generation  is  dropping  out,  and  we  shall 
soon  be  among  the  old  people  ourselves,"  Mr.  Leverett 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  231 

said.  "  I  was  thinking  to-night  how  many  youngish 
people  were  here  who  have  grown  up  in  the  last  ten 
years." 

"  We  each  have  a  young  staff  to  lean  upon,"  rejoined 
Mr.  Adams  proudly,  glancing  at  the  two  boys. 

The  carriage  came  round.  Aunt  Priscilla  shook  hands 
with  Cousin  Winthrop,  and  said,  much  moved: 

"  I've  had  a  pleasant  time,  and  I  had  a  good  mind  not 
to  come.  I'm  getting  old  and  queer  and  not  fit  for  any 
thing  but  to  sit  in  the  corner  and  grumble,  instead  of 
frolicking  round." 

"  Oh,  don't  grumble.  Why,  I  believe  I  am  going 
backward.  I  feel  ten  years  younger,  and  you  are  not 
old  enough  to  die  of  old  age.  Betty,  you  must  keep 
prodding  her  up." 

He  handed  her  in  the  carriage  himself,  and  when  they 
were  all  in  Doris  said: 

"  It  seems  as  if  I  ought  to  go,  too." 

Uncle  Win  caught  her  hand,  as  if  she  might  run  away. 

"  I  do  think  Cousin  Winthrop  has  improved  of  late," 
said  Mrs.  Leverett.  "  He  has  gained  a  little  flesh  and 
looks  so  bright  and  interested,  and  he  talked  to  all  the 
folks  in  such  a  cordial  way,  as  if  he  was  really  glad  to  see 
them.  And  those  strawberries  did  beat  all  for  size. 
Betty,  the  table  looked  like  a  feast  for  a  king,  if  they  de 
serve  anything  better  than  common  folks." 

"  Any  other  child  would  be  clear  out  of  bonds  and  past 
redemption,"  declared  Aunt  Priscilla.  "  Everybody 
made  so  much  of  her,  as  if  it  was  her  party.  And  how 
the  little  creetur  does  sing!  I'd  like  to  hear  her  prais 
ing  the  Lord  with  that  voice  instead  of  wasting  it  on 
French  things  that  may  be  so  bad  you  couldn't  say  them 
in  good  English." 

"That   isn't,"  replied   Betty.     "It   is   a   little   good- 


232        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

night  that  her  mother  used  to  sing  to  her  and  taught 
her." 

Aunt  Priscilla  winked  hard  and  subsided.  A  little 
orphan  girl — well,  Cousin  Winthrop  would  be  a  good 
father  to  her.  Perhaps  no  one  would  ever  be  quite  ten 
der  enough  for  her  mother. 

Everybody  went  home  pleased.  Yet  nowadays  such  a 
family  party  would  have  been  dull  and  formal,  with  no 
new  books  and  theaters  and  plays  and  tennis  and  golf 
to  talk  about,  and  the  last  ball  game,  perhaps.  There 
had  been  a  kind  of  gracious  courtesy  in  inquiries  about 
each  other's  families — a  true  sympathy  for  the  deaths  and 
misfortunes,  a  kindly  pleasure  in  the  successes,  a  con 
gratulation  for  the  younger  members  of  the  family  grow 
ing  up,  a  little  circling  about  religion  and  the  recent 
rather  broad  doctrines  the  clergy  were  entertaining.  For 
it  was  a  time  of  ferment  when  the  five  strong  points  of 
Calvinism  were  being  severely  shaken,  and  the  doctrine 
of  election  assaulted  by  the  doctrine  that,  since  Christ 
died  for  all,  all  might  in  some  mysterious  manner  share 
the  benefit  without  being  ruled  out  by  their  neighbors. 

Winthrop  Adams  would  hardly  have  dreamed  that  the 
presence  of  a  little  girl  in  the  house  was  stirring  every 
pulse  in  an  unwonted  fashion.  He  had  brooded  over 
books  so  long;  now  he  took  to  nature  and  saw 
many  things  through  the  child's  fresh,  joyous  sight.  He 
brushed  up  his  stories  of  half-forgotten  knowledge  for 
her;  he  recalled  his  boyhood's  lore  of  birds  and  squirrels, 
bees  and  butterflies,  and  began  to  feast  anew  on  the 
beauty  of  the  world  and  all  things  in  their  season. 

It  is  true,  in  those  days  knowledge  and  literature 
were  not  widely  diffused.  A  book  or  two  of  ser 
mons,  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  perhaps  "  Fox's  Book 
of  Martyrs,"  and  the  Farmer's  Almanac  were  the  extent 
of  literature  in  most  families.  Women  had  too  much  to 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  233 

do  to  spend  their  time  reading  except  on  Saturday  even 
ing  and  after  second  service  on  the  Sabbath — then  it 
must  be  religious  reading. 

But  Boston  was  beginning  to  stir  in  the  education  of 
its  women.  Mrs.  Abigail  Adams  had  said,  "  If  we  mean 
to  have  heroes,  statesmen,  and  philosophers,  we  should 
have  learned  women."  They  started  a  circle  of  sociality 
that  was  to  be  above  the  newest  pattern  for  a  gown  and 
the  latest  recipe  for  cake  or  preserves.  A  Mrs.  Grant 
had  written  a  volume  called  "  Letters  from  the  Moun 
tains,"  which  they  interested  themselves  in  having  repub- 
lished.  Hannah  Adams  had  written  some  valuable 
works,  and  was  now  braiding  straw  for  a  living;  and  Mrs. 
Josiah  Quincy  exerted  herself  to  have  so  talented  a 
woman  placed  above  indigence.  She  also  endeavored  to 
have  Miss  Edgeworth's  "  Moral  Tales  "  republished  for 
young  people.  Scott  was  beginning  to  infuse  new  life 
with  his  wonderful  tales,  which  could  safely  be  put  in  the 
hands  of  younger  readers.  The  first  decade  of  the  cen 
tury  was  laying  a  foundation  for  the  grand  work  to  be 
done  later  on.  And  with  nearly  every  vessel,  or  with  the 
travelers  from  abroad,  would  come  some  new  books  from 
England.  Though  they  were  dear,  yet  there  were  a  few 
"  foolish  "  people  who  liked  a  book  better  than  several 
dollars  added  to  their  savings. 

Warren's  freedom  suit  and  his  freedom  party  inter 
ested  Doris  a  great  deal.  Since  Betty's  return  there  had 
been  several  evening  companies,  with  the  parlor  opened 
and  the  cake  and  lemonade  set  out  on  the  table  instead  of 
being  passed  around.  Betty  and  Jane  Morse  were  fast 
friends.  They  went  "  uptown  "  of  an  afternoon  and  had 
a  promenade,  with  now  and  then  a  nod  from  some  of  the 
quality.  Betty  was  very  much  elated  when  Gary  Adams 
walked  home  with  her  one  afternoon  and  planned  about 
the  party.  He  would  ask  three  of  the  young  fellows,  and 


234        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

with  himself  they  would  give  some  college  songs.  He 
knew  Miss  Morse's  cousin,  Morris  Winslow,  very  well — 
he  met  him  quite  frequently  at  the  Royalls'.  Indeed, 
Gary  knew  he  was  a  warm  admirer  of  Isabel  Royall. 

After  all,  the  much-talked-of  suit  was  only  a  best  Sun 
day  suit  of  black  broadcloth.  Doris  looked  disap 
pointed. 

"  Did  you  expect  I  would  have  red  and  white  stripes 
down  the  sides  and  blue  stars  all  over  the  coat?"  Warren 
asked  teasingly.  "And  an  eagle  on  the  buttons?  I  am 
afraid  then  I  should  be  impressed  and  taken  out  to  sea." 

"  Betty,"  she  said  afterward,  "  will  you  have  a  freedom 
suit  when  you  are  twenty-one.  And  must  it  be  a  black 
gown?" 

"  I  think  they  never  give  girls  that,"  answered  Betty 
laughingly.  "  Theirs  is  a  wedding  gown.  Though 
after  you  are  twenty-one,  if  you  go  anywhere  and  earn 
money,  you  can  keep  it  for  yourself.  Your  parents  can 
not  claim  it." 

Warren  had  a  holiday.  His  father  said  he  did  not 
want  to  see  him  near  the  store  all  day  long.  He  went 
over  to  Uncle  Win's,  who  was  just  having  some  late 
cherries  picked  to  grace  the  feast,  and  he  was  asked  into 
the  library,  where  Uncle  Win  made  him  a  very  pleasant 
little  birthday  speech  and  gave  him  a  silver  watch  to  re 
member  the  occasion  by.  Warren  was  so  surprised  he 
hardly  knew  how  to  thank  him. 

Betty  was  sorry  there  could  be  no  dancing  at  the  party, 
especially  as  Mr.  Winslow  had  offered  black  Joe.  But 
mother  would  be  so  opposed  they  did  not  even  sug 
gest  it. 

The  young  people  began  to  gather  about  seven. 
They  congratulated  the  hero  of  the  occasion,  and  one 
young  fellow  recited  some  amusing  verses.  They  played 
games  and  forfeits  and  had  a  merry  time.  The  Cam- 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  235 

bridge  boys  sang  several  beautiful  songs,  and  others  of 
the  gay,  rollicking  order.  The  supper  table  looked  very 
inviting,  Betty  thought.  Altogether  it  was  a  great 
pleasure  to  the  young  people,  who  kept  it  up  quite 
late,  but  then  it  was  such  a  delightful  summer  night! 
Doris  thought  the  singing  the  most  beautiful  part  of  all. 
Warren's  great  surprise  occurred  the  next  morning. 
There  was  a  new  sign  up  over  the  door  in  the  place  of 
the  old  weather-beaten  one  that  his  father  had  admitted 
was  disgraceful.  And  on  it  in  nice  fresh  lettering  was: 


P.   LEVERETT  &  SON. 


"  Oh,  father! "  was  all  he  could  say  for  a  moment. 

"  Hollis  was  a  good,  steady  boy — I've  been  blest  in  my 
boys,  and  I  thank  God  for  it,  so  when  Hollis  was  through 
with  his  trade,  and  had  that  good  opportunity  to  go  in 
business,  I  advanced  him  some  money.  He  has  been 
prospered  and  would  have  paid  it  back,  but  I  told  him 
to  keep  it  for  his  part.  This  will  be  your  offset  to  it. 
Cousin  Winthrop  is  coming  down  presently,  and  Giles 
Thatcher,  and  we  will  have  all  the  papers  signed,  so  that 
if  anything  happens  to  me  there  will  be  no  trouble. 
You've  been  a  good  son,  Warren,  and  I  hope  you  will 
make  a  good,  honorable  man." 

The  tears  sprang  to  Warren's  eyes.  He  was  very 
glad  he  had  yielded  some  points  to  his  father  and  ac 
cepted  obedience  as  his  due  to  be  rendered  cheerfully. 
For  Mr.  Leverett  had  never  been  an  unreasonable  man. 

Uncle  Win  congratulated  him  again.  Betty  and  her 
mother  went  down  in  the  afternoon  to  see  the  new  sign. 
Aunt  Priscilla  thought  it  rather  risky  business,  for  being 
twenty-one  didn't  always  bring  good  sense  with  it,  and 


236        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

too  much  liberty  was  apt  to  spoil  anyone  with  no  more 
experience  than  Warren. 

Betty  said  Aunt  Priscilla  must  have  something  to 
worry  about,  which  was  true  enough.  She  had  come  to 
the  Leveretts'  to  see  how  she  could  stand  "  being  with 
out  a  home,"  as  she  phrased  it.  But  she  found  herself 
quite  feeble,  and  with  a  cough,  and  she  admitted  she 
never  had  quite  gotten  over  the  winter's  cold  which  she 
took  going  to  church  that  bitter  Sunday.  As  just  the 
right  person  to  keep  her  house  had  not  come  to  hand, 
and  as  it  really  was  cheaper  to  live  this  way,  and  gave  one 
a  secure  feeling  in  case  of  illness,  she  thought  it  best  to 
go  on.  Elizabeth  Leverett  made  her  feel  very  much  at 
home.  She  could  go  down  in  the  kitchen  and  do  a  bit  of 
work  when  she  wanted  to,  she  could  weed  a  little  out  in 
the  garden,  she  could  mend  and  knit  and  pass  away  the 
time,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  have  someone  to  converse 
with,  to  argue  with. 

She  had  been  in  great  trouble  at  first  about  black 
Polly.  That  she  had  really  entertained  the  thought  of 
getting  rid  of  her  in  a  helpless  old  age  seemed  a  great  sin 
now. 

"  And  the  poor  old  thing  had  been  so  faithful  until  she 
began  to  lose  her  memory.  How  could  I  have  resolved 
to  do  such  a  thing !  "  she  would  exclaim. 

"  You  never  did  resolve  to  do  it,  Aunt  Priscilla,"  Mr. 
Leverett  said  one  day.  "  I  am  quite  sure  you  could  not 
have  done  it  when  it  came  to  the  pinch.  It  was  one  of 
the  temptations  only." 

"  But  I  never  struggled  against  it.  That  is  what 
troubles  me." 

"  God  knew  just  how  it  would  end.  He  did  not  mean 
the  poor  creature  to  become  a  trouble  to  anyone.  If  he 
had  wanted  to  try  you  further,  no  doubt  he  would  have 
done  it.  Now,  why  can't  you  accept  the  release  as  he 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  237 

sent  it?  It  seems  almost  as  if  you  couldn't  resign  your 
self  to  his  wisdom." 

"  You  make  religion  so  comfortable,  Foster  Leverett, 
that  I  hardly  know  whether  to  take  it  that  way.  It  isn't 
the  old-fashioned  way  in  which  I  was  brought  up." 

"  There  was  just  one  Doubting  Thomas  among  the 
Twelve,"  he  replied  smilingly. 

There  was  little  need  of  people  going  away  for  a  sum 
mering  then,  though  they  did  try  to  visit  their  relatives 
in  the  country  places  about.  People  came  up  from  the 
more  southern  States  for  the  cool  breezes  and  the  pleas 
ant  excursions  everywhere.  There  were  delightful  parties 
going  out  almost  every  day,  to  the  islands  lying  off  the 
city,  to  the  little  towns  farther  away,  to  some  places 
where  it  was  necessary  to  remain  all  night.  Madam 
Royall  insisted  upon  taking  Doris  with  the  girls  for  a 
week's  excursion,  and  she  had  a  happy  time.  Gary  went 
to  Plymouth  to  his  aunt's,  and  was  fascinated  with  sea 
going  matters  and  the  naval  wars  in  progress.  Josiah 
March  was  a  stanch  patriot,  and  said  the  thing  would 
never  be  settled  until  we  had  taught  England  to  let  our 
men  and  our  vessels  alone. 

Only  a  few  years  before  our  commerce  had  extended 
over  the  world.  Boston — with  her  eighty  wharves  and 
quays,  her  merchants  of  shrewd  and  sound  judgment, 
ability  of  a  high  order  and  comprehensive  as  well  as 
authentic  information — at  that  time  stood  at  the  head  of 
the  maritime  world.  The  West  Indies,  China, — though 
Canton  was  the  only  port  to  which  foreigners  were  ad 
mitted, — and  all  the  ports  of  Europe  had  been  open  to 
her.  The  coastwise  trade  was  also  enormous.  From 
seventy  to  eighty  sail  of  vessels  had  cleared  in  one  day. 
Long  Wharf,  at  the  foot  of  State  Street,  was  one  of  the 
most  interesting  and  busy  places. 

The  treaty  between  France  and  America  had  agreed 


238        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

that  "  free  bottoms  made  free  ships,"  but  during  the  wars 
of  Napoleon  this  had  been  so  abridged  that  trade  was 
now  practically  destroyed.  Then  England  had  insisted 
upon  the  right  of  search,  which  left  every  ship  at  her 
mercy,  and  hundreds  of  our  sailors  were  being  taken 
prisoners.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  war  talk  already. 
Trade  was  seriously  disturbed. 

There  was  a  very  strong  party  opposed  to  war.  What 
could  so  young  a  country,  unprepared  in  every  way,  do? 
The  government  temporized — tried  various  methods  in 
the  hope  of  averting  the  storm. 

People  began  to  economize ;  still  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  money  in  Boston.  Pleasures  took  on  a  rather  more 
economical  aspect  and  grew  simpler.  But  business  was 
at  a  standstill.  The  Leveretts  were  among  the  first  to 
suffer,  but  Mr.  Leverett's  equable  temperament  and 
serene  philosophy  kept  his  family  from  undue  anxiety. 

"  It's  rather  a  hard  beginning  for  you,  my  boy,"  he 
said,  "  but  you  will  have  years  enough  to  recover.  Only 
I  sometimes  wish  it  could  come  to  a  crisis  and  be  over, 
so  that  we  could  begin  again.  It  can  never  be  quite  as 
bad  as  the  old  war." 

Doris  commenced  school  with  the  Chapman  girls  at 
Miss  Parker's.  Uncle  Win  had  a  great  fancy  for  sending 
her  to  Mrs.  Rowson. 

"Wait  a  year  or  so,"  counseled  Madam  Royall. 
"  Children  grow  up  fast  enough  without  pushing  them 
ahead.  Little  girlhood  is  the  sweetest  time  of  life  for 
the  elderly  people,  whatever  it  may  be  for  the  girls.  I 
should  like  Helen  and  Eudora  to  stand  still  for  a  few 
years,  and  Doris  is  too  perfect  a  little  bud  to  be  lured 
into  blossoming.  There  is  something  unusual  about  the 
child." 

When  anyone  praised  Doris,  Uncle  Win  experienced 
a  thrill  of  delight. 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  239 

Miss  Parker's  school  was  much  more  aristocratic  than 
Mrs.  Webb's.  There  were  no  boys  and  no  very  small 
children.  Some  of  the  accomplishments  were  taught. 
French,  drawing  and  painting,  and  what  was  called  the 
"  use  of  the  globe,"  which  meant  a  large  globe  with  all 
the  countries  of  the  world  upon  it,  arranged  to  turn 
around  on  an  axis.  This  was  a  new  thing.  Doris  was 
quite  fascinated  by  it,  and  when  she  found  the  North  Sea 
and  the  Devonshire  coast  and  the  "  Wash  "  the  girls 
looked  on  eagerly  and  straightway  she  became  a  heroine. 

But  one  unlucky  recess  when  she  had  won  in  the  game 
of  graces  a  girl  said : 

"I  don't  care!  That  isn't  anything!  We  beat  your 
old  English  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  if  there's  an 
other  war  we'll  beat  you  again.  My  father  says  so.  I 
wouldn't  be  English  for  all  the  gold  on  the  Guinea 
coast!  " 

"  I  am  not  English,"  Doris  protested.  "  My  father 
was  born  in  this  very  Boston.  And  I  was  born  in 
France." 

"  Well,  the  French  are  just  as  bad.  They  are  not  to 
be  depended  upon.  You  are  a  mean  little  foreign  girl, 
and  I  shall  not  speak  to  you  again,  there  now ! " 

Doris  looked  very  sober.  Helen  Chapman  comforted 
her  and  said  Faith  Dunscomb  was  not  worth  minding. 

She  told  it  over  to  Uncle  Win  that  evening. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  never  be  a  real  Boston  girl,"  she  said 
sorrowfully. 

"  I  think  you  are  a  pretty  good  one  now,  and  of  good 
old  Boston  stock,"  he  replied  smilingly.  "  Sometime 
you  will  be  proud  that  you  came  from  the  other  Boston. 
Oddly  enough  most  of  us  came  from  England  in  the  be 
ginning.  And  the  Faneuils  came  from  France,  and  they 
are  proud  enough  of  their  old  Huguenot  blood." 

She  had  been  to  Faneuil  Hall  and  the  Market  with 


240        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Uncle  Winthrop.  They  raised  all  their  vegetables  and 
fruit,  unless  it  was  something  quite  rare,  and  Cato  did 
the  family  marketing. 

Only  a  few  years  before  the  Market  had  been  enlarged 
and  improved.  Fifty  years  earlier  the  building  had 
burned  down  and  been  replaced,  but  even  the  old  building 
had  been  identified  with  liberty  of  thought,  and  had  a  well- 
known  portrait  painter  of  that  day,  John  Smibert,  for  its 
architect.  In  the  later  improvements  it  had  been  much 
enlarged,  and  the  beautiful  open  arches  of  the  ground 
floor  were  closed  by  doors  and  windows,  which  rendered 
it  less  picturesque.  It  was  the  marketplace  par  excel 
lence  then,  as  Quincy  Market  came  in  with  the  enterprise 
of  the  real  city.  But  even  then  it  rejoiced  in  the  appel 
lation  of  "  The  Cradle  of  Liberty,"  and  the  hall  over  the 
market-space  was  used  for  political  gatherings. 

Huckster  and  market  wagons  from  the  country  farms 
congregated  in  Dock  Square.  The  mornings  were  the 
most  interesting  time  for  a  visit.  The  "  quality  "  came 
in  their  carriages  with  their  servant  man  to  run  to  and 
fro;  or  some  young  lady  on  horseback  rode  up  through 
the  busy  throng  to  leave  an  order,  and  then  the  women 
whose  servant  carried  a  basket,  or  those  having  no  serv 
ant  carried  their  own  baskets,  and  who  went  about  cheap 
ening  everything. 

So  Doris  was  quite  comforted  to  know  that  Peter 
Faneuil,  who  was  held  in  such  esteem,  had  not  even  been 
born  in  Boston,  and  was  of  French  extraction. 

But  girls  soon  get  over  their  tiffs  and  disputes.  Play 
is  the  great  leveler.  Then  Doris  was  so  obliging  about 
the  French  exercises  that  the  girls  could  not  stay  away 
very  long  at  a  time. 

Miss  Parker's  typified  the  conventional  idea  of  a 
girl's  education  prevalent  at  that  time:  that  ft  should 
be  largely  accomplishment.  So  Doris  was  allowed 


A   FREEDOM   SUIT.  241 

considerable  latitude  in  the  commoner  branches.  Mrs. 
Webb  had  been  exacting  in  the  few  things  she  taught, 
especially  arithmetic.  And  Uncle  Win  admitted  to  him 
self  that  Doris  had  a  poor  head  for  figures.  When  she 
came  to  fractions  it  was  heartrending.  Common  mul 
tiples  and  least  and  greatest  common  divisors  had  such  a 
way  of  getting  mixed  up  in  her  brain,  that  he  felt  very 
sorry  for  her. 

She  brought  over  Betty's  book  in  which  all  her  sums 
in  the  more  difficult  rules  had  been  worked  out  and 
copied  beautifully.  There  were  banking  and  equation  of 
payments  and  all  the  "  roots  "  and  progression  and  alli 
gation  and  mensuration. 

"  I  don't  know  what  good  they  will  really  be  to  Betty," 
said  Uncle  Win  gravely.  Then,  as  his  face  relaxed  into 
a  half-smile,  he  added :  "  Perhaps  Mary  Manning's  fifty 
pairs  of  stockings  she  had  when  she  was  married  may  be 
more  useful.  Betty  has  a  good  head  and  "  twinkling 
feet."  Did  you  know  a  poet  said  that?  And  another 
one  wrote: 

"  '  Her  feet  beneath  her  petticoat, 
Like  little  mice  stole  in  and  out 

As  if  they  feared  the  light  ; 
But,  oh,  she  dances  such  a  way  ! 
No  sun  upon  an  Easter  day 
Is  half  so  fair  a  sight. '  " 

"Oh,  Uncle  Win,  that's  just  delightful!  Did  your 
poet  write  any  more  such  dainty  things,  and  can  I  read 
them?  Betty  would  just  go  wild  over  that." 

"  Yes,  I  will  find  it  for  you.  And  we  won't  worry 
now  about  the  hard  knots  over  in  the  back  of  the  arith 
metic." 

"  Nor  about  the  stockings.  Miss  Isabel  is  knitting 
some  beautiful  silk  ones,  blossom  color. 

Ladies  and  girls  danced  in  slippers  then  and  wore 


242        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

them  for  evening  company,  and  stockings  were  quite  a 
feature  in  attire. 

Uncle  Win  was  too  indulgent,  of  course.  Miss 
Recompense  said  she  had  never  known  a  girl  to  be 
brought  up  just  that  way,  and  shook  her  head  doubtfully. 

Early  in  the  new  year  an  event  happened,  or  rather  the 
tidings  came  to  them  that  seemed  to  have  a  bearing  on 
both  of  these  points.  An  old  sea  captain  one  day 
brought  a  curious  oaken  chest,  brass  bound,  and  with 
three  brass  initials  on  the  top.  The  key,  which  was  tied 
up  in  a  small  leathern  bag,  and  a  letter  stowed  away  in 
an  enormous  well-worn  wallet,  he  delivered  to  "  Mr. 
Winthrop  Adams,  Esq." 

It  contained  an  unfinished  letter  from  Miss  Arabella, 
beginning  "  Dear  and  Honored  Sir,"  and  another  from 
the  borough  justice.  Miss  Arabella  was  dead.  The 
care  of  her  sister  had  worn  her  so  much  that  she  had 
dropped  into  a  gentle  decline,  and  knowing  herself  near 
the  end  had  packed  the  chest  with  some  table  linen  that 
belonged  to  the  mother  of  Doris,  some  clothing,  two 
dresses  of  her  own,  several  petticoats,  two  pairs  of  satin 
slippers  she  had  worn  in  her  youth  and  outgrown,  and 
six  pairs  of  silk  stockings.  Doris  would  grow  into  them 
all  presently. 

Then  inclosed  was  a  bank  note  for  one  hundred 
pounds  sterling,  and  much  love  and  fond  remembrances. 

The  other  note  announced  the  death  of  Miss  Arabella 
Sophia  Roulstone,  aged  eighty-one  years  and  three 
months,  and  the  time  of  her  burial.  Her  will  had  been 
read  and  the  bequests  were  being  paid.  Mr.  Millington 
requested  a  release  before  a  notary,  and  an  acknowledg 
ment  of  the  safe  arrival  of  the  goods  and  the  legacy,  to  be 
returned  by  the  captain. 

Mr.  Adams  went  out  with  the  captain  and  attended  to 
the  business. 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  243 

Doris  had  a  little  cry  over  Miss  Arabella.  It  did  not 
seem  as  if  she  could  be  eighty  years  old.  She  could  re 
call  the  sweet,  placid  face  under  the  snowy  cap,  and 
almost  hear  the  soft  voice. 

"  That  is  quite  a  legacy,"  said  Uncle  Win.  "  Doris, 
can  you  compute  it  in  dollars  ?  " 

We  had  come  to  have  a  currency  of  our  own — "  deci 
mal  "  it  was  called,  because  computed  by  tens. 

We  still  reckoned  a  good  deal  in  pounds,  shillings,  and 
pence,  but  ours  were  not  pounds  sterling. 

Doris  considered  and  knit  her  delicate  brows.  Then 
a  soft  light  illumined  her  face. 

"Why,  Uncle  Win,  it  is  five  hundred  dollars!  Isn't 
that  a  great  deal  of  money  for  a  little  girl  like  me?  And 
must  it  not  be  saved  up  some  way?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  for  your  wedding  day." 

"  And  then  suppose  I  should  not  get  married?  " 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A    SUMMER   IN    BOSTON. 

'TTHE  Leveretts  rejoiced  heartily  over  Doris'  good  for- 
*•  tune.  Aunt  Priscilla  began  to  trouble  herself  again 
about  her  will.  She  had  taken  the  usual  autumnal  cold, 
but  recovered  from  it  with  good  nursing.  Certainly 
Elizabeth  Leverett  was  very  kind.  Aunt  Priscilla  had 
eased  up  Betty  while  her  mother  spent  a  fortnight  at 
Salem,  helping  with  the  fall  sewing  and  making  com 
fortables.  And  this  time  she  brought  home  little  Ruth, 
who  was  thin  and  peevish,  and  who  had  not  gotten  well 
over  the  measles,  that  had  affected  her  eyes  badly.  Ruth 
was  past  four. 

"  I  wish  Mary  did  not  take  life  so  hard,"  said  Mrs. 


244        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Leverett  with  a  sigh.  "  They  have  been  buying  a  new 
twenty-acre  pasture  lot  and  two  new  cows,  and  it  is  just 
drive  all  the  time.  That  poor  little  Elizabeth  will  be  all 
worn  out  before  she  is  grown  up.  And  Ruth  wouldn't 
have  lived  the  winter  through  there." 

Ruth  was  extremely  troublesome  at  first.  But  grand 
mothers  have  a  soothing  art,  and  after  a  few  weeks  she 
began  to  improve.  The  visits  of  Doris  fairly  transported 
her,  and  she  amused  grandpa  by  asking  every  morning 
"  if  Doris  would  come  to-day,"  having  implicit  faith  in 
his  knowledge  of  everything. 

Aunt  Priscilla  counted  on  the  visits  as  well.  She  kept 
her  room  a  good  deal.  Ruth's  chatter  disturbed  her. 
Pattern  children  brought  up  on  the  strictest  rules  did  not 
seem  quite  so  agreeable  to  her  as  the  little  flower  grow 
ing  up  in  its  own  sweetness. 

Betty  used  to  walk  a  short  distance  home  with  her,  as 
she  declared  it  was  the  only  chance  she  had  for  a  bit  of 
Doris.  She  was  very  fond  of  hearing  about  the  Royalls, 
and  now  Miss  Isabel's  engagement  to  Mr.  Morris  Win- 
slow  was  announced. 

Warren  declared  Jane  was  quite  "  top-loftical "  about 
it.  She  had  been  introduced  to  Miss  Isabel  at  an  even 
ing  company,  and  then  they  had  met  at  Thayer's  dry 
goods  store,  where  she  and  Mrs.  Chapman  had  been 
shopping,  and  had  quite  a  little  chat.  They  bowed  in  the 
street,  and  Jane  was  much  pleased  at  the  prospect  of 
being  indirectly  related. 

But  Betty  had  taken  tea  at  Uncle  Winthrop's  with 
Miss  Alice  Royall,  who  had  come  over  with  the  two 
little  girls  to  return  some  of  the  visits  Doris  had  made. 
The  girls  fell  in  love  with  bright,  versatile  Betty,  and 
Alice  was  much  interested  in  her  visit  to  Hartford,  and 
thought  her  quite  charming. 

Then  it  was  quite  fascinating  to  compare  notes  about 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  245 

Mr.  Adams  with  one  of  his  own  kin.  Alice  made  no 
secret  of  her  admiration  for  him ;  the  whole  family  joined 
in,  for  that  matter.  Young  girls  could  be  a  little  free  and 
friendly  with  elderly  gentlemen  without  exciting  com 
ment  or  having  to  be  so  precise. 

When  Jane  said  "  Cousin  Morris  told  me  such  or  such 
a  thing,"  Betty  was  delighted  to  reply,  "  Yes,  Doris  was 
speaking  of  it."  The  girls  were  the  best  of  friends,  but 
this  half-unconscious  rivalry  was  natural. 

Mrs.  Leverett  had  no  objections  to  the  intimacy  now. 
Betty  was  older  and  more  sensible,  and  now  she  was 
really  a  young  lady  receiving  invitations,  and  going  out 
to  walk  or  to  shop  with  the  girls.  For  hard  as  the  times 
were,  a  little  finery  had  to  be  bought,  or  a  gown  now  and 
then. 

Mrs.  King  had  not  gone  to  New  York,  though  her 
husband  had  been  there  on  business.  She  would  .have 
been  very  glad  of  Betty's  company;  but  with  little  Ruth 
and  Aunt  Priscilla,  Betty  felt  she  ought  not  leave  her 
mother.  And,  then,  she  was  having  a  young  girl's  good 
time  at  home. 

Mrs.  Leverett  half  wished  Jane  might  "fancy  Warren." 
She  was  a  smart,  attractive,  and  withal  sensible  girl.  But 
Warren  was  not  thinking  of  girls  just  now,  or  of  marry 
ing.  The  debating  society  was  a  source  of  great  interest 
and  nearly  every  "  talk  "  turned  on  some  aspect  of  the 
possible  war.  His  singing  class  occupied  him  one  even 
ing,  and  one  evening  was  devoted  to  dancing.  He 
liked  Jane  very  much  in  a  friendly  fashion,  and  they  went 
on  calling  each  other  by  their  first  names,  but  if  he  hap 
pened  to  drop  in  there  was  almost  sure  to  be  other  com 
pany. 

The  "  Son  "  on  the  business  sign  over  the  doorway 
gave  him  a  great  sense  of  responsibility,  especially  now 
when  everything  was  so  dull,  and  money,  as  people  said, 


246        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  came  like  drawing  teeth,"  a  painful  enough  process  in 
those  days. 

Finally  Miss  Isabel  Royall's  wedding  day  was  set  for 
early  in  June.  The  shopping  was  quite  an  undertaking. 
There  were  Thayer's  dry-goods  store  and  Daniel  Simp 
son's  and  Mr.  Bromfield's,  the  greater  and  the  lesser 
shops  on  Washington  and  School  streets.  It  was  quite 
a  risk  now  ordering  things  from  abroad,  vessels  were 
interfered  with  so  much.  But  there  were  China  silks  and 
Canton  crape, — a  beautiful  material, — and  French  and 
English  goods  that  escaped  the  enemy ;  so  if  you  had  the 
money  you  could  find  enough  for  an  extensive  wedding 
outfit.  At  home  we  had  also  begun  to  make  some  very 
nice  woolen  goods. 

May  came  out  full  of  bloom  and  beauty.  Such  a 
shower  of  blossoms  from  cherry,  peach,  pear,  and  apple 
would  be  difficult  now  to  imagine.  For  almost  every 
house  had  a  yard  or  a  garden.  Colonnade  Row  was 
among  the  earliest  places  to  be  built  up  compactly 
of  brick  and  was  considered  very  handsome  for  the 
time. 

But  people  strolled  around  then  to  see  the  beautiful 
unfolding  of  nature.  There  was  the  old  Hancock  House 
on  Beacon  Street.  The  old  hero  had  gone  his  way,  and 
his  wife  was  now  Madam  Scott,  and  lived  in  the  same 
house,  and  though  the  garden  and  nursery  had  been 
shorn  of  much  of  their  glory,  there  were  numerous  for 
eign  trees  that  were  curiously  beautiful,  and  people  used 
to  make  at  least  one  pilgrimage  to  see  these  immense 
mulberry  trees  in  bloom. 

The  old  Bowdoin  garden  was  another  remarkable 
place,  and  the  air  around  was  sweet  for  weeks  with  the 
bloom  of  fruit  trees  and  later  on  the  grapes  that  were 
raised  in  great  profusion.  You  sometimes  saw  elegant 
old  Madam  Bowdoin  walking  up  and  down  the  garden 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  247 

paths  and  the  grandchildren  skipping  rope  or  playing 
tag. 

But  Summer  Street,  with  its  crown  of  beauty,  held  its 
head  as  high  as  any  of  its  neighbors. 

"  I  don't  see  why  May  should  be  considered  unlucky 
for  weddings,"  Isabel  protested.  "  I  should  like  to  be 
married  in  a  bower  of  apple  blossoms." 

"But  isn't  a  bower  of  roses  as  beautiful?" 

"And  the  snow  of  the  cherries  and  pears!  Think  of 
it — fragrant  snow!  " 

But  Isabel  gave  parties  to  her  friends,  and  they  took 
tea  out  under  the  great  apple  tree  and  were  snowed  on 
with  every  soft  wave  of  wind. 

It  was  not  necessary  then  to  go  into  seclusion.  The 
bride-elect  took  pleasure  in  showing  her  gowns  and  her 
finery  to  her  dearest  friends.  She  was  to  be  married  in 
grandmother's  brocade.  Her  own  mother  had  it  lent  to 
her  for  the  occasion.  It  was  very  handsome  and  could 
almost  "  stand  alone."  There  were  great  flowers  that 
looked  as  if  they  were  embroidered  on  it,  and  now  it  had 
assumed  an  ivory  tint.  Two  breadths  had  been  taken 
out  of  the  skirt,  people  were  so  slim  at  present.  But  the 
court  train  was  left.  The  bertha,  as  we  should  call  it 
now,  was  as  a  cobweb,  and  the  lace  from  the  puff  sleeve 
falling  over  the  arm  of  the  same  elegant  material. 

It  was  good  luck  to  borrow  something  to  be  married 
in,  and  good  luck  to  have  something  old  as  well  as  the 
something  new. 

Morris  Winslow  had  been  quite  a  beau  about  town. 
He  was  thirty  now,  ten  years  older  than  Isabel.  He  had 
a  big  house  over  in  Dorchester  and  almost  a  farm.  He 
owned  another  in  Boston,  where  a  tavern  of  the  higher 
sort  was  kept  and  rooms  rented  to  bachelors.  He  had 
an  apartment  here  and  kept  his  servant  Joe  and  his  hand 
some  team,  besides  his  saddle  horse.  He  was  rather 


248        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

gay,  but  of  good  moral  character.  No  one  else  would 
have  been  accepted  as  a  lover  at  the  Royalls'. 

Jane  was  invited  to  one  of  the  teas.  People  had  not 
come  to  calling  them  "  Dove  "  parties  yet,  nor  had  break 
fasts  or  luncheon  parties  come  in  vogue  for  such  occa 
sions.  There  were  about  a  dozen  girls.  They  in 
spected  the  wedding  outfit,  they  played  graces,  they  sang 
songs,  and  had  tea  in  Madam  Royall's  old  china  that  had 
come  to  America  almost  a  hundred  years  before. 

Afterward  several  young  gentlemen  called,  and  they 
walked  up  and  down  in  the  moonlight.  A  young  lady 
could  invite  her  own  escort,  especially  if  she  was  "  keep 
ing  company."  Sometimes  the  mothers  sent  a  servant 
to  fetch  home  their  daughters. 

Of  course  Jane  had  an  invitation  to  the  wedding. 
Alice  and  a  friend  were  to  be  bridesmaids,  and  the  chil 
dren  were  to  be  gowned  in  simple  white  muslin,  with 
bows  and  streamers  of  pink  satin  ribbon  and  strew  roses 
in  the  bride's  path.  They  were  flower  maidens.  Dorcas 
Payne  was  asked,  and  Madam  Royall  begged  Mr. 
Adams  to  allow  his  niece  to  join  them.  They  would  all 
take  it  as  a  great  favor. 

"The  idea!"  cried  Aunt  Priscilla;  "and  she  no  rela 
tion!  If  the  queen  was  to  come  to  Boston  I  dare  say 
Doris  Adams  would  be  asked  to  turn  out  to  meet  her! 
Well,  I  hope  her  pretty  face  won't  ever  get  her  into 
trouble." 

It  was  a  beautiful  wedding,  everybody  said.  The 
great  rooms  and  the  halls  were  full  of  guests,  but  they 
kept  a  way  open  for  the  bride,  who  came  downstairs  on 
her  lover's  arm,  and  he  looked  very  proud  and  manly. 
The  bridesmaids  and  groomsmen  stood  one  couple  at 
each  side.  The  little  girls  strewed  their  flowers  and  then 
stood  in  a  circle,  and  the  bride  swept  gracefully  to  the 
open  space  and  turned  to  face  the  guests.  The  maid 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  249 

was  a  little  excited  when  she  pulled  off  the  bride's  glove, 
but  all  went  well,  and  Isabel  Royall  was  at  her  very  best. 

While  the  kissing  and  congratulations  were  going  on, 
four  violins  struck  up  melodious  strains.  It  was  just  six 
o'clock  then.  The  bride  and  groom  stood  for  a  while  in 
the  center  of  the  room,  then  marched  around  and  smiled 
and  talked,  and  finally  went  out  to  the  dining  room, 
where  the  feast  was  spread,  and  where  the  bride  had  to 
cut  the  cake. 

Gary  Adams  was  among  the  young  people.  He  was 
a  great  favorite  with  Alice,  and  a  welcome  guest,  if  he 
did  not  come  quite  as  often  as  his  father. 

One  of  the  prettiest  things  afterward  was  the  minuet 
danced  by  the  four  little  girls,  and  after  that  two  or  three 
cotillions  were  formed.  The  bride  danced  with  both  of 
the  groomsmen,  and  the  new  husband  with  both  of  the 
bridesmaids.  Then  their  duty  was  done. 

They  were  to  drive  over  to  Dorchester  that  night,  so 
presently  they  started.  Two  or  three  old  slippers  were 
thrown  for  good  luck.  Several  of  the  younger  men  were 
quite  nonplused  at  this  arrangement,  for  they  had 
planned  some  rather  rough  fun  in  a  serenade,  thinking 
the  bridal  couple  would  stay  in  town. 

There  were  some  amusements,  jesting  and  laughter, 
some  card-playing  and  health-drinking  among  the  elders. 
The  guests  congratulated  Madam  Royall  nearly  as  much 
as  they  had  the  bride.  Then  one  after  another  came  and 
bade  her  good-night,  and  took  away  their  parcel  of  wed 
ding  cake  to  dream  on. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Doris  on  the  way  home, — the  night  was 
so  pleasant  they  were  walking, — "  oh,  wasn't  it  splendid! 
I  wish  Betty  could  have  been  there.  Gary,  how  old  must 
you  be  before  you  can  get  married?" 

"  Well — I  should  have  to  look  up  a  girl." 

"  Oh,  take  Miss  Alice.     She  likes  you  ever  so  much — 


250        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

I  heard  her  say  so.  But  you  haven't  any  house  like  Mr. 
Winslow.  Uncle  Win,  couldn't  he  bring  her  home  to 
live  with  us?" 

Gary's    cheeks   were    in   a   red    flame.     Uncle   Win 
laughed. 

"  My  dear,"  he  began,  "  a  young  man  must  have  some 
business  or  some  money  to  take  care  of  his  wife.  She 
wouldn't  like  to  be  dependent  on  his  relatives.  Gary  is 
going  to  study  law,  which  will  take  some  years,  then  he 
must  get  established,  and  so  we  will  have  to  wait  a  long 
while.  He  is  too  young.  Mr.  Winslow  is  thirty;  Gary 
isn't  twenty  yet." 

"Oh,  dear!  Well,  perhaps  Betty  will  get  married. 
The  girl  doesn't  have  to  be  so  old?  " 

"  No,"  said  Uncle  Win. 

Betty  came  over  the  next  morning  to  spend  the  day 
and  help  Miss  Recompense  to  distill.  She  wanted  to 
hear  the  first  account  from  Doris  and  Uncle  Win,  to 
take  off  the  edge  of  Jane's  triumphant  news. 

They  made  rose  water  and  a  concoction  from  the  spice 
pinks.  Then  they  preserved  cherries.  Uncle  Win  took 
them  driving  toward  night  and  said  some  day  they  would 
go  over  to  Dorchester.  He  had  several  friends  there. 

The  next  excitement  for  Doris  was  the  college  com 
mencement.  Mr.  Adams  was  disappointed  that  his  son 
should  not  stand  at  the  head  of  almost  everything.  He 
had  taken  one  prize  and  made  some  excellent  examina 
tions,  but  there  were  many  ranking  as  high  and  some 
higher. 

There  were  no  ball  games,  no  college  regattas  to  share 
honors  then.  Not  that  these  things  were  tabooed. 
There  were  some  splendid  rowing  matches  and  games, 
but  then  young  men  had  a  desire  to  stand  high  intel 
lectually. 

A  long  while  before  Judge  Sewall  had  expressed  his 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  251 

disapproval  of  the  excesses  at  dinners,  the  wine-drinking 
and  conviviality,  and  had  set  Friday  for  commencement 
so  that  there  would  be  less  time  for  frolicking.  The  war, 
with  its  long  train  of  economies,  and  the  greater  serious 
ness  of  life  in  general,  had  tempered  all  things,  but  there 
was  gayety  enough  now,  with  dinners  given  to  the  prize 
winners  and  a  very  general  jollification. 

Doris  went  with  Uncle  Winthrop.  Commencement 
was  one  of  the  great  occasions  of  the  year.  All  the  ora 
tions  were  in  Latin,  and  the  young  men  might  have  been 
haranguing  a  Roman  army,  so  vigorous  were  they. 
Many  of  the  graduates  were  very  young;  boys  really 
studied  at  that  time. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  and  the  one  following  were 
given  over  to  festivities.  Booths  were  everywhere  on 
the  ground;  colors  flying,  flowers  wreathed  in  every 
fashion,  and  so  much  merriment  that  they  quite  needed 
Judge  Sewall  back  again  to  restrain  the  excesses. 

Mr.  Adams  and  Doris  went  to  dine  at  the  Cragie 
House,  and  Doris  would  have  felt  quite  lost  among 
judges  and  professors  but  for  Miss  Cragie,  who  took  her 
in  charge.  When  they  went  home  in  the  early  evening 
the  shouts  and  songs  and  boisterousness  seemed  like  a 
perfect  orgy. 

Someone  has  said,  with  a  kind  of  dry  wit,  "  Wherever 
an  Englishman  goes  courts  and  litigation  are  sure  to  pre 
vail."  Certainly  our  New  England  forefathers,  who  set 
out  with  the  highest  aims,  soon  found  it  necessary  to 
establish  law  courts.  In  the  early  days  every  man 
pleaded  his  own  cause,  and  was  especially  versed  in  the 
"  quirks  of  the  law."  Jeremy  Gridley,  a  graduate  of 
Harvard,  interested  himself  in  forming  a  law  club  in  the 
early  part  of  the  previous  century  to  pursue  the  study 
enough  "  to  keep  out  of  the  briars."  And  to  Justice 
Dana  is  ascribed  the  credit  of  administering  to  Mr.  Sec- 


252        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

retary  Oliver,  standing  under  the  Liberty  Tree  in  a 
great  assemblage  of  angry  townspeople,  an  oath  that  he 
would  take  no  measures  to  enforce  the  odius  Stamp  Act 
of  the  British  Parliament  or  distribute  it  among  the 
people. 

And  now  the  bar  had  a  rank  of  its  own,  and  Winthrop 
Adams  had  a  strong  desire  to  see  his  son  one  of  the 
shining  lights  in  the  profession.  Gary  had  a  fine  voice 
and  was  a  good  speaker.  More  than  once  he  had  dis 
tinguished  himself  in  an  argument  at  some  of  the  de 
bates.  To  be  admitted  to  the  office  of  Governor  Gore 
was  considered  a  high  honor  then,  and  this  Mr.  Adams 
gained  for  his  son.  Gary  had  another  vague  dream,  but 
parental  authority  in  well-bred  families  was  not  to  be 
disputed  at  that  period,  and  Gary  acquiesced  in  his 
father's  decision,  since  he  knew  his  own  must  bring 
about  much  discussion  and  probably  a  refusal. 

Mrs.  King  came  to  visit  her  mother  this  summer. 
She  left  all  her  children  at  home,  as  she  wanted  to  visit 
round,  and  was  afraid  they  might  be  an  annoyance  to 
Aunt  Priscilla.  Little  Ruth  had  gone  home  very  much 
improved,  her  eyes  quite  restored. 

Uncle  Winthrop  enjoyed  Mrs.  King's  society  very 
much.  She  was  intelligent  and  had  cultivated  her  natu 
ral  abilities,  she  also  had  a  certain  society  suavity  that 
made  her  an  agreeable  companion.  Doris  thought  her 
a  good  deal  like  Betty,  she  was  so  pleasant  and  ready  for 
all  kinds  of  enjoyment.  Aunt  Priscilla  considered  her 
very  frivolous,  and  there  was  so  much  going  and  coming 
that  she  wondered  Elizabeth  did  not  get  crazy  over  it. 

They  were  to  remove  to  New  York  in  the  fall,  Mr. 
King  having  perfected  his  business  arrangements.  So 
Betty  would  have  her  winter  in  the  gay  city  after  all. 

There  were  many  delightful  excursions  with  pleasure 
parties  up  and  down  the  bay.  The  Embargo  had  been 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  253 

repealed,  and  the  sails  of  merchant  ships  were  again 
whitening  the  harbor,  and  business  people  breathed  more 
freely. 

There  were  Castle  Island,  with  its  fortifications  and  its 
waving  flag,  and  queer  old  dreary-looking  Noddle's 
Island,  also  little  towns  and  settlements  where  one 
could  spend  a  day  delightfully.  Every  place,  it  seemed 
to  Doris,  had  some  queer,  interesting  story,  and  she 
possessed  an  insatiable  appetite  for  them.  There  was 
the  great  beautiful  sweep  of  Boston  Bay,  with  its  inlets 
running  around  the  towns  and  its  green  islands  every 
where — places  that  had  been  famous  and  had  suffered  in 
the  war,  and  were  soon  to  suffer  again. 

Mrs.  King  had  a  friend  at  Hingham,  and  one  day  they 
went  there  in  a  sort  of  family  party.  Uncle  Winthrop 
obtained  a  carriage  and  drove  them  around.  It  was 
still  famous  for  its  wooden-ware  factories,  and  Uncle 
Win  said  in  the  time  of  Governor  Andros,  when  money 
was  scarce  among  the  early  settlers,  Hingham  had  paid 
its  taxes  in  milk  pails,  but  they  decided  the  taxes  could 
not  have  been  very  high,  or  the  fame  of  the  milk  pails 
must  have  been  very  great. 

Mrs.  Gerry  said  in  the  early  season  forget-me-nots 
grew  wild  all  about,  and  the  ground  was  blue  with  them. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Win,  let  us  come  and  see  them  next  year," 
cried  Doris. 

Then  they  hunted  up  the  old  church  that  had  been 
nearly  rent  asunder  by  the  bringing  in  of  a  bass  viol  to 
assist  the  singers.  Party  spirit  had  run  very  high.  The 
musical  people  had  quoted  the  harps  and  sacbuts  of  King 
David's  time,  the  trumpets  and  cymbals.  At  last  the  big 
bass  viol  won  the  victory  and  was  there.  And  the  hymn 
was: 

"  Oh,  may  my  heart  in  tune  be  found, 
Like  David's  harp  of  solemn  sound." 


254        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

But  the  old  minister  was  not  to  be  outdone.    The  hymn 
was  lined  off  in  this  fashion  : 

"  Oh,  may  my  heart  go  diddle,  diddle, 
Like  Uncle  David's  sacred  fiddle." 

There  were  still  a  great  many  people  opposed  to  in 
strumental  music  and  who  could  see  no  reverence  in  the 
organ's  solemn  sound. 

Uncle  Winthrop  smiled  over  the  story,  and  Betty  said 
it  would  do  to  tell  to  Aunt  Priscilla. 

Betty  begged  that  they  might  take  Doris  to  Salem  with 
them.  Doris  thought  she  should  like  to  see  the  smart 
little  Elizabeth,  who  was  like  a  woman  already,  and  her 
old  playfellow  James,  as  well  as  Ruth,  who  seemed  to  her 
hardly  beyond  babyhood.  And  there  were  all  the  weird 
old  stories — she  had  read  some  of  them  in  Cotton 
Mather's  "  Magnalia,"  and  begged  others  from  Miss 
Recompense,  who  did  not  quite  know  whether  she  be 
lieved  them  or  not,  but  she  said  emphatically  that  people 
had  been  mistaken  and  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
witches. 

"  A  whole  week !  "  said  Uncle  Winthrop.  "  Whatever 
shall  I  do  without  a  little  girl  that  length  of  time?  " 

"  But  you  have  Gary  now,"  she  returned  archly. 

Gary  was  a  good  deal  occupied  with  young  friends  and 
college  associates.  Now  and  then  he  went  over  to 
Charlestown  and  stayed  all  night  with  one  of  his 
chums. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  learn  how  it  will  be  without 
you  when  you  want  to  go  away  in  real  earnest." 

"  I  am  never  going  away." 

"  Suppose  Mrs.  King  should  invite  you  to  New  York? 
She  has  some  little  girls." 

"  You  might  like  to  go,"  she  returned  with  a  touch  of 
hesitation. 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  255 

"To  see  the  little  girls? "  smilingly. 

"  To  see  a  great  city.  Do  you  suppose  they  are  very 
queer — and  Dutch  ?  " 

He  laughed  at  that. 

"  But  the  Dutch  people  went  there  and  settled,  just  as 
the  Puritans  came  here.  And  I  think  I  like  the  Dutch 
because  they  have  such  a  merry  time  at  Christmas.  We 
read  about  them  in  history  at  school." 

"  And  then  the  English  came,  you  know.  I  think  now 
there  is  not  much  that  would  suggest  Holland.  I  have 
been  there." 

Then  Doris  was  eager  to  know  what  it  was  like,  and 
Uncle  Winthrop  was  interested  in  telling  her.  They  for 
got  all  about  Salem — at  least,  Doris  did  until  she  was 
going  to  bed. 

"  If  you  do  go  you  must  be  very  careful  a  witch  does 
not  catch  you,  for  I  couldn't  spare  my  little  girl  alto 
gether." 

"  Uncle  Winthrop,  I  am  going  to  stay  with  you  always. 
When  Miss  Recompense  gets  real  old  and  cannot  look 
after  things  I  shall  be  your  housekeeper." 

"  When  Miss  Recompense  reaches  old  age  I  am  afraid 
I  shall  be  quaking  for  very  fear." 

"  But  it  takes  a  long  while  for  people  to  get  very  old," 
she  returned  decisively. 

Betty  came  over  the  next  day  to  tell  her  they  would 
start  on  Thursday  morning,  and  were  going  in  a  sloop  to 
Marblehead  with  a  friend  of  her  father's,  Captain 
Morton. 

It  was  almost  like  going  to  sea,  Doris  thought.  They 
had  to  thread  their  way  through  the  islands  and  round 
Winthrop  Head.  There  was  Grover's  Cliff,  and  then 
they  went  out  past  Nahant  into  the  broad,  beautiful  bay, 
where  you  could  see  the  ocean.  It  seemed  ages  ago 
since  she  had  crossed  it.  They  kept  quite  in  to  the  green 


256        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

shores  and  could  see  Lynn  and  Swampscott,  then  they 
rounded  one  more  point  and  came  to  Marblehead,  where 
Captain  Morton  stopped  to  unload  his  cargo,  while  they 
went  on  to  Salem. 

At  the  old  dock  they  were  met  by  a  big  boy  and  a 
country  wagon.  This  was  Foster  Manning,  the  eldest 
grandson  of  the  family. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Betty  in  amazement,  "  how  you  have 
grown!  It  is  Foster?  " 

He  smiled  and  blushed  under  the  sunburn — a  thin, 
angular  boy,  tall  for  his  age,  with  rather  large  features 
and  light-brown  hair  with  tawny  streaks  in  it.  But  his 
gray-blue  eyes  were  bright  and  honest-looking. 

"  Yes,  'm,"  staring  at  the  others,  for  he  had  at  the  mo 
ment  forgotten  his  aunt's  looks. 

Betty  introduced  them. 

"  I  should  not  have  known  you,"  said  Aunt  Electa. 
"  But  boys  change  a  good  deal  in  two  years  or  so." 

They  were  helped  in  the  wagon,  more  by  Betty  than 
Foster,  who  was  evidently  very  bashful.  They  drove  up 
past  the  old  Court  House,  through  the  main  part  of  the 
town,  which  even  then  presented  a  thriving  appearance 
with  its  home  industries.  But  the  seaport  trade  had  been 
sadly  interfered  with  by  the  rumors  and  apprehensions  of 
war.  At  that  time  it  was  quaint  and  country-looking, 
with  few  pretensions  to  architectural  beauty.  There  was 
old  Gallows  Hill  at  one  end,  with  its  haunting  stories  of 
witchcraft  days. 

The  irregular  road  wandered  out  to  the  farming  dis 
tricts.  Many  small  towns  had  been  set  off  from  the 
original  Salem  in  the  century  before,  and  the  boundaries 
were  marked  mostly  by  the  farms. 

Betty  inquired  after  everybody,  but  most  of  the  an 
swers  were  "  Yes,  'm  "  and  "  No,  'm."  When  they  came 
in  sight  of  the  house  Mrs.  Manning  and  little  Ruth  ran 


A   SUMMER   IN    BOSTON.  257 

out  to  welcome  the  guests,  followed  by  Elizabeth,  who 
was  almost  as  good  as  a  woman. 

The  house  itself  was  a  plain  two-story  with  the  hall 
door  in  the  middle  and  a  window  on  each  side.  The 
roof  had  a  rather  steep  pitch  in  front  with  overhanging 
eaves.  From  this  pitch  it  wandered  off  in  a  slow  curve 
at  the  back  and  seemed  stretched  out  to  cover  the  kitchen 
and  the  sheds. 

A  grassy  plot  in  front  was  divided  by  a  trodden  path. 
On  one  side  of  the  small  stoop  was  a  great  patch  of  holly 
hocks  that  were  tolerated  because  they  needed  no  special 
care.  Mrs.  Manning  had  no  time  to  waste  upon  flowers. 
The  aspect  was  neat  enough,  but  rather  dreary,  as  Doris 
contrasted  it  with  the  bloom  at  home. 

But  the  greetings  were  cordial,  only  Mrs.  Manning 
asked  Betty  "  If  she  had  been  waiting  for  someone  to 
come  and  show  her  the  way?  "  Ruth  ran  to  Doris  at 
once  and  caught  her  round  the  waist,  nestling  her  head 
fondly  on  the  bosom  of  the  guest.  Elizabeth  stood  awk 
wardly  distant,  and  only  stared  when  Betty  presented  her 
to  Doris. 

They  were  ushered  into  the  first  room,  which  was  the 
guest  chamber.  The  floor  was  painted,  and  in  summer 
the  rugs  were  put  away.  A  large  bedstead  with  faded 
chintz  hangings,  a  bureau,  a  table,  and  two  chairs  com 
pleted  the  furniture.  The  ornaments  were  two  brass 
candlesticks  and  a  snuffers  tray  on  the  high  mantel. 

Here  they  took  off  their  hats  and  laid  down  their 
budgets,  and  then  went  through  to  mother's  room,  where 
there  were  a  bed  and  a  cradle,  a  bureau,  a  big  chest,  a 
table  piled  up  with  work,  a  smaller  candlestand,  and  a 
curious  old  desk.  Next  to  this  was  the  living-room, 
where  the  main  work  of  life  went  on.  Beyond  this  were 
a  kitchen  and  some  sheds. 

Baby  Hester  sat  on  the  floor  and  looked  amazed  at 


258        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

the  irruption,  then  began  to  whimper.  Her  mother 
hushed  her  up  sharply,  and  she  crept  out  to  the  living- 
room. 

"  We  may  as  well  all  go  out,"  said  Mrs.  Manning.  "  I 
must  see  about  supper,  for  that  creature  we  have  doesn't 
know  when  the  kettle  boils,"  and  she  led  the  way. 

Elizabeth  began  to  spread  the  tea  table.  A  youngish 
woman  was  working  in  the  kitchen.  The  Mannings  had 
taken  one  of  the  town's  poor,  who  at  this  period  were 
farmed  out.  Sarah  Lewis  was  not  mentally  bright,  and 
required  close  watching,  which  she  certainly  received  at 
the  Mannings'.  Doris  stood  by  the  window  with  Ruth, 
until  the  baby  cried,  when  her  mother  told  her  to  take 
Hester  out  in  the  kitchen  and  give  her  some  supper  and 
put  her  to  bed.  And  then  Doris  could  do  nothing  but 
watch  Elizabeth  while  the  elders  discussed  family  affairs, 
the  conversation  a  good  deal  interrupted  by  rather  sharp 
orders  to  Sarah  in  the  kitchen,  and  some  not  quite  so 
sharp  to  Elizabeth. 

Supper  was  all  on  the  table  when  the  men  came  in. 
There  were  Mr.  Manning,  Foster  and  James,  and  two 
hired  men. 

"  You  must  wait,  James,"  said  his  mother — "  you  and 
Elizabeth." 

The  guests  were  ranged  at  one  end  of  the  table,  the 
hired  men  and  Foster  at  the  other.  Elizabeth  took  some 
knitting  and  sat  down  by  the  window.  The  two  younger 
children  remained  in  the  kitchen. 

"Doris  was  curiously  interested,  though  she  felt  a  little 
strange.  Her  eyes  wandered  to  Elizabeth,  and  met  the 
other  eyes,  as  curious  as  hers.  Elizabeth  had  straight 
light  hair,  cut  square  across  the  neck,  and  across  her 
forehead  in  what  we  should  call  a  bang.  "  It  was  time 
to  let  it  grow  long,"  her  mother  admitted,  "  but  it  was 
such  a  bother,  falling  in  her  eyes."  Her  frock,  whatever 


A   SUMMER   IN   BOSTON.  259 

color  it  had  been,  was  now  faded  to  a  hopeless,  depressing 
gray,  and  her  brown  gingham  apron  tied  at  the  waist  be 
trayed  the  result  of  many  washings.  She  was  thin  and 
pale,  too,  and  tired-looking.  Times  had  not  been  good, 
and  some  of  the  crops  were  not  turning  out  well,  so  every 
nerve  had  to  be  strained  to  pay  for  the  new  lot,  in  order 
that  the  interest  on  the  amount  should  not  eat  up  every 
thing. 

Afterward  the  men  went  to  look  to  the  cattle,  and  Mrs. 
Manning,  when  she  had  given  orders  a  while  in  the 
kitchen,  took  her  guests  out  on  the  front  porch.  She  sat 
and  knit  as  she  talked  to  them,  as  the  moon  was  shining 
and  gave  her  light  enough  to  see. 

When  the  old  clock  struck  nine,  Mr.  Manning  came 
through  the  hall  and  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  Be  you  goin'  to  sit  up  all  night,  mother?  "  he  in 
quired. 

"  Dear,  no.  And  I  expect  you're  all  tired.  We're  up 
so  early  in  the  morning  here  that  we  go  to  bed  early. 
And  I  was  thinking — Ruth  needn't  have  gone  upstairs, 
and  Doris  could  have  slept  with  Elizabeth " 

"  I'll  go  upstairs  with  Doris,  and  'Lecty  may  have  the 
room  to  herself,"  exclaimed  Betty. 

Grandmother  Manning  had  a  room  downstairs,  back 
of  the  parlor,  and  one  of  the  large  rooms  upstairs,  that 
the  family  had  the  privilege  of  using,  though  it  was 
stored  nearly  full  with  a  motley  collection  of  articles  and 
furniture.  This  was  her  right  in  the  house  left  by  her 
husband.  But  she  spent  most  of  her  time  between  her 
daughter  at  Danvers  and  another  in  the  heart  of  the 
town,  where  there  were  neighbors  to  look  at,  if  nothing 
else. 

Doris  peered  in  the  corners  of  the  room  by  the  dim 
candlelight. 

"  It's  very  queer,"  she  said  with  a  half-smile  at  Betty, 


260        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

glancing  around.  For  there  were  lines  across  on  which 
hung  clothes  and  bags  of  dried  herbs  that  gave  the  room 
an  aromatic  fragrance,  and  parcels  in  one  corner  piled 
almost  up  to  the  wall.  But  the  space  to  the  bed  was 
clear,  and  there  were  a  stand  for  the  candle  and  two 
chairs. 

"  The  children  are  in  the  next  room,  and  the  boys  and 
men  sleep  at  the  back.  The  other  rooms  have  sloping 
roofs.  And  then  there's  a  queer  little  garret.  Grand 
mother  Manning  is  real  old,  and  some  time  Mary  will 
have  all  the  house  to  herself.  Josiah  bought  out  his 
sisters'  share,  and  Mrs.  Manning's  runs  only  as  long  as 
she  lives." 

"  I  shouldn't  want  to  sleep  with  Elizabeth.  I  love 
you,  Betty." 

Betty  laughed  wholesomely.  "  You  will  get  ac 
quainted  with  her  to-morrow,"  she  said. 

Doris  laid  awake  some  time,  wondering  if  she  really 
liked  visiting,  and  recalling  the  delightful  Christmas 
visit  at  Uncle  Winthrop's.  The  indefinable  something 
that  she  came  to  understand  was  not  only  leisure  and  re 
finement,  but  the  certain  harmonious  satisfactions  that 
make  up  the  keynote  of  life  from  whence  melody  diffuses 
itself,  were  wanting  here. 

They  had  their  breakfast  by  themselves  the  next  morn 
ing.  Friday  was  a  busy  day,  but  all  the  household  ex 
cept  the  baby  were  astir  at  five,  and  often  earlier.  There 
were  churning  and  the  working  of  butter  and  packing  it 
down  for  customers.  Of  course,  June  butter  had  the 
royal  mark,  but  there  were  plenty  of  people  glad  to  get 
any  "  grass  "  butter. 

Betty  took  Doris  out  for  a  walk  and  to  show  her  what 
a  farm  was  like.  There  was  the  herd  of  cows,  and  in  a 
field  by  themselves  the  young  ones  from  three  months  to 
a  year.  There  were  two  pretty  colts  Mr.  Manning  was 


A   SUMMER   IN    BOSTON.  261 

raising.  And  there  was  a  flock  of  sheep  on  a  stony 
pasture  lot,  with  some  long-legged,  awkward-looking 
lambs  who  had  outgrown  their  babyhood.  Then  they 
espied  James  weeding  out  the  garden  beds. 

Betty  sat  down  on  a  stone  at  the  edge  of  the  fence  and 
took  out  some  needlework  she  carried  around  in  her 
pocket.  Doris  stood  patting  down  the  soft  earth  with 
her  foot. 

"  Do  you  like  to  do  that?"  she  asked  presently. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  in  a  short  tone. 

"  I  think  I  should  not  either." 

"  'Taint  the  things  you  like,  it's  what  has  to  be  done," 
the  boy  flung  out  impatiently.  "  I'm  not  going  to  be  a 
farmer.  I  just  hate  it.  When  I'm  big  enough  I'm  com 
ing  to  Boston." 

"  When  will  you  be  big  enough?  " 

"  Well — when  I'm  twenty-one.  You're  of  age  then, 
you  see,  and  your  own  master.  But  I  might  run  away 
before  that.  Don't  tell  anyone  that,  Doris.  Gewhilli- 
ker!  didn't  I  have  a  splendid  time  at  grandmother's  that 
winter!  I  wish  I  could  live  there  always.  And  grand- 
pop  is  just  the  nicest  man  I  know!  I  just  hate  a  farm." 

Doris  felt  very  sorry  for  him.  She  thought  she  would 
not  like  to  work  that  way  with  her  bare  hands.  Miss 
Recompense  always  wore  gloves  when  she  gardened. 

"  I'd  like  to  be  you,  with  nothing  to  do." 

That  was  a  great  admission.  The  winter  at  Uncle 
Leverett's  he  had  rather  despised  girls.  Cousin  Sam  was 
the  one  to  be  envied  then.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
kept  quite  busy  at  home,  but  it  was  a  pleasant  kind  of 
business. 

She  did  not  see  Elizabeth  until  dinner  time.  James 
took  the  men's  dinner  out  to  the  field.  They  could  not 
spend  the  time  to  come  in.  And  after  dinner  Betty  har 
nessed  the  old  mare  Jinny,  and  took  Electa,  Doris,  and 


262        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

little  Ruth  out  driving.  The  sun  had  gone  under  a  cloud 
and  the  breeze  was  blowing  over  from  the  ocean.  Electa 
chose  to  see  the  old  town,  even  if  there  were  but  few 
changes  and  trade  had  fallen  off.  Several  slender- 
masted  merchantmen  were  lying  idly  at  the  quays,  half 
afraid  to  venture  with  a  cargo  lest  they  might  fall  into 
the  hands  of  privateers.  The  stores  too  had  a  depressed 
aspect.  Men  sat  outside  gossiping  in  a  languid  sort  of 
way,  and  here  and  there  a  woman  was  tending  her  baby 
on  the  porch  or  doing  a  bit  of  sewing. 

"What  a  sleepy  old  place!"  said  Mrs.  King.     "It 
would  drive  me  to  distraction." 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

ANOTHER    GIRL. 

C  ATURDAY  afternoon  the  work  was  finished  up  and 
^  the  children  washed.  The  supper  was  eaten  early, 
and  at  sundown  the  Sabbath  had  begun.  The  parlor 
was  opened,  but  the  children  were  allowed  out  on  the 
porch.  Ruth  sprang  up  a  time  or  two  rather  impa 
tiently. 

"  Sit  still,"  said  Elizabeth,  "  or  you  will  have  to  go  to 
bed  at  once." 

"  Couldn't  I  take  her  a  little  walk?  "  asked  Doris. 

"  A  walk!     Why  it  is  part  of  Sunday!  " 

"  But  I  walk  on  Sunday  with  Uncle  Winthrop." 

"  It's  very  wicked.     We  do  walk  to  church,  but  that 
isn't  anything  for  pleasure." 

"  But  uncle  thinks  one  ought  to  be  happy  and  joyous 
on  Sunday.     It  is  the  day  the  Lord  rose  from  the  dead." 

"  It's  the  Sabbath.     And  you  are  to  remember  the 
Sabbath  to  keep  it  holy." 

"What  is  the  difference  between  Sabbath  and  Sun 
day?" 


ANOTHER   GIRL.  263 

"  There  aint  any,"  said  James.  "  There's  six  days  to 
work,  and  I  wish  there  was  two  Sundays — one  in  the 
middle  of  the  week.  The  best  time  of  all  is  Sunday 
night.  You  don't  have  to  keep  so  very  still,  and  you 
don't  have  to  work  neither." 

Elizabeth  sighed.  Then  she  said  severely,  "  Do  you 
know  your  catechism,  James?  " 

"  Well — I  always  have  to  study  it  Sunday  morning," 
was  the  rather  sullen  reply. 

"  Maybe  you  had  better  go  in  and  look  it  over." 

"  You  never  do  want  a  fellow  to  take  any  comfort. 
Yes,  I  know  it." 

"  Ruth,  if  you  are  getting  sleepy  go  to  bed." 

Ruth  had  leaned  her  head  down  on  Doris'  shoulder. 

"She's  wide  awake,"  and  Doris  gave  her  a  little  squeeze 
that  made  her  smile.  She  would  have  laughed  outright 
but  for  fear. 

Elizabeth  leaned  her  head  against  the  door  jamb. 

"  You  look  so  tired,"  said  Doris  pityingly. 

"  I  am  tired  through  and  through.  I  am  always  glad 
to  have  Saturday  night  come  and  no  knitting  or  any 
thing.  Don't  you  knit  when  you  are  home?  " 

"  I  haven't  knit — much."  Doris  flushed  up  to  the 
roots  of  her  fair  hair,  remembering  her  unfortunate  at 
tempts  at  achieving  a  stocking. 

"  What  do  you  do?  " 

"  Study,  and  read  to  Uncle  Winthrop,  and  go  to  school 
and  to  writing  school,  and  walk  and  take  little  journeys 
and  drives  and  do  drawing.  Next  year  I  shall  learn  to 
paint  flowers." 

"  But  you  do  some  kind  of  work?  " 

"  I  keep  my  room  in  order  and  Uncle  Win  trusts  me 
to  dust  his  books.  And  I  sew  a  little  and  make  lace. 
But,  you  see,  there  is  Miss  Recompense  and  Dinah  and 
Cato." 


264        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD    BOSTON. 

"Oh,  what  a  lot  of  help!  What  does  Miss  Recom 
pense  do?  " 

"  She  is  the  housekeeper." 

"  Is  Uncle  Winthrop  very  rich?  " 

"  I— I  don't  know." 

"  But  there  are  no  children  and  boys  to  wear  out  their 
clothes  and  stockings.  There's  so  much  knitting  to  be 
done.  I  go  to  school  in  winter,  but  there  is  too  much 
work  in  summer.  Doris  Adams,  you  are  a  lucky  girl  if 
your  fortune  doesn't  spoil  you." 

"  Fortune!  "  exclaimed  Doris  in  surprise. 

"Yes.  I  heard  father  talk  about  it.  And  all  that 
from  England!  Then  someone  died  in  Boston  and  left 
you  ever  so  much.  I  suppose  you  will  be  a  grand  lady!  " 

"  I'd  like  to  be  a  lovely  old  lady  like  Madam  Royall." 

"  And  who  is  she?  " 

Doris  was  in  the  full  tide  of  narration  when  Mrs.  Man 
ning  came  to  the  hall  door.  She  caught  some  descrip 
tion  of  a  party. 

"  Elizabeth,  put  Ruth  to  bed  at  once  and  go  yourself. 
Doris,  talking  of  parties  isn't  a  very  good  preparation  for 
tfie  Sabbath.  Elizabeth,  when  you  say  your  prayers 
think  of  your  sins  and  shortcomings  for  the  week,  and 
repent  of  them  earnestly." 

Ruth  had  fallen  asleep  and  gave  a  little  whine.  Her 
mother  slapped  her. 

"  Hush,  not  a  word.     You  deserve  the  same  and  more, 
Elizabeth!     James,  go  in  and  study  your  catechism  over 
three  times,  then  go  to  bed." 

Doris  sat  alone  on  the  doorstep,  confused  and  amazed. 
She  was  quite  sure  now  she  did  not  like  Mrs.  Manning, 
and  she  felt  very  sorry  for  Elizabeth.  Then  Betty  came 
out  and  told  her  some  odd  Salem  stories. 

They  all  went  to  church  Sabbath  morning,  in  the  old 
Puritan  parlance.  Doris  found  it  hard  to  comprehend 


ANOTHER   GIRL.  265 

the  sermon.  Many  of  the  people  from  the  farms  brought 
their  luncheons,  and  wandered  about  the  graveyard  or 
sat  under  the  shady  trees.  At  two  the  children  were 
catechised,  at  three  service  began  again. 

Mrs.  King  took  Doris  and  Betty  to  dine  with  a  friend 
of  her  youth,  and  then  went  back  to  the  service  out  of 
respect  to  her  sister  and  brother-in-law.  Little  Ruth  fell 
asleep  and  was  punished  for  it  when  she  reached  home. 
The  children  were  all  fractious  and  their  mother  scolded. 
When  the  sun  went  down  there  was  a  general  sense  of 
relief.  The  younger  ones  began  to  wander  around. 
The  two  mothers  sauntered  off  together,  talking  of 
matters  they  preferred  not  to  have  fall  on  the  ears  of 
small  listeners. 

Betty  attracted  the  boys.  Foster  could  talk  to  her, 
though  he  was  much  afraid  of  girls  in  general. 

Doris  and  Elizabeth  sat  on  the  steps.  Ruth  was  run 
ning  small  races  with  herself. 

"  Would  you  rather  go  and  walk?  "  inquired  Elizabeth 
timidly. 

"  Oh,  no.     Not  if  you  like  to  sit  still,"  cheerfully. 

"  I  just  do.  I'm  always  tired.  You  are  so  pretty,  I 
was  afraid  of  you  at  first.  And  you  have  such  beautiful 
clothes.  That  blue  ribbon  on  your  hat  is  like  a  bit  of 
the  sky.  And  God  made  the  sky." 

The  voice  died  away  in  admiration. 

"  That  isn't  my  best  hat,"  returned  Doris  simply. 
"  Cousin  Betty  thought  the  damp  of  the  ocean  and  run 
ning  out  in  the  dust  would  ruin  it.  It  has  some  beautiful 
pink  roses  and  ever  so  much  gauzy  stuff  and  a  great  bow 
of  pink  satin.  Then  I  have  a  pink  muslin  frock  with  tiny 
green  and  brown  sprigs  all  over  it,  and  a  great  sash  of 
the  muslin  that  comes  down  to  the  hem.  (The  Chap 
man  girls  have  satin  ribbon  sashes,  but  Miss  Recom 
pense  said  she  liked  the  muslin  better." 


266        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  Do  you  have  to  wear  just  what  she  says?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  Madam  Royall  chooses  some  things,  and 
Betty.  And  Cousin  King  brought  me  an  elegant  sash, 
white,  with  flowers  all  over  it.  I  have  ever  so  many 
pretty  things." 

"  Oh,  how  proud  you  must  feel ! "  said  the  Puritan 
maid  half  enviously. 

"  I  don't  know  "—hesitatingly.  "  I  think  I  feel  just 
nice,  and  that  is  all  there  is  about  it.  Uncle  Win  likes 
what  they  get  for  me — men  can't  buy  clothes,  you  know, 
and  if  he  is  pleased  and  thinks  I  look  well,  that  is  the 
end  of  it." 

"  Oh,  how  good  it  must  feel  to  be  happy  just  like  that. 
But  are  you  quite  sure,"  lowering  her  voice  to  a  touch 
of  awe,  "  that  you  will  not  be  punished  in  the  next 
world?" 

"  What  for?    Doesn't  God  mean  us  to  be  happy?  " 

"  Well — not  in  this  world,  perhaps,"  answered  the 
young  theologian.  "  But  you  don't  have  anything  in 
heaven  except  a  white  robe,  and  if  you  haven't  had  any 
pretty  things  in  this  world " 

"  I  wish  I  could  give  you  some  of  mine."  Doris 
slipped  her  soft  warm  hand  over  the  other,  beginning  to 
grow  bony  and  strained  already. 

"  They  wouldn't  do  me  any  good,"  was  the  almost 
apathetical  reply.  "  I  only  go  to  church,  and  niQther 
wouldn't  let  me  wear  them." 

11  Do  you  like  to  go  to  church  ?  " 

"  I  hate  the  long  sermons  and  the  prayers.  Oh,  that 
is  dreadful  wicked,  isn't  it?  But  I  like  to  see  the  people 
and  hear  the  talk,  and  they  do  have  some  new  clothes; 
and  the  sitting  still.  When  you've  run  and  run  all  the 
week  and  are  tired  all  over,  it's  just  good  to  sit  still.  And 
it's  different.  I  get  so  tired  of  the  same  things  all  the 


ANOTHER   GIRL.  267 

time  and  the  hurry.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to 
do  when  I  am  a  woman?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Doris  with  a  look  of  interested  inquiry. 

"  I'm  going  to  have  one  room  like  grandmother  Man 
ning,  and  live  by  myself.  I  shan't  have  any  husband  or 
children.  I  don't  want  to  be  sewing  and  knitting  and 
patching  continually,  and  babies  are  an  awful  sight  of 
trouble,  and  husbands  are  just  thinking  of  work,  work  all 
the  time.  Then  I  shall  go  visiting  when  I  like,  and 
though  I  shall  read  the  Bible  I  won't  mind  about  remem 
bering  the  sermons.  I'll  just  have  a  good  time  by 
myself." 

Doris  felt  strangely  puzzled.  She  always  wanted  a 
good  time  with  someone.  The  great  pleasure  to  her  was 
having  another  share  a  joy.  And  to  live  alone  was 
almost  like  being  imprisoned  in  some  dreary  cell. 
Neither  could  she  think  of  Helen  or  Eudora  living  alone 
— indeed,  any  of  the  girls  she  knew. 

"  Now  you  can  go  on  about  the  wedding  party,"  said 
Elizabeth  after  a  pause.  "  And  you  really  danced !  And 
you  were  not  afraid  the  ground  would  open  and  swallow 
you?" 

"  Why,  no,"  returned  Doris.  "  There  are  earthquakes 
that  swallow  up  whole  towns,  but,  you  see,  the  good  and 
the  bad  go  together.  And  I  never  heard  of  anyone  being 
swallowed  up " 

"  Why,  yes — in  the  Bible — Korah,  Dathan,  and 
Abiram." 

"  But  they  were  not  dancing.  I  think," — hesitat 
ingly, — "  they  were  finding  fault  with  Moses  and  Aaron, 
and  wanting  to  be  leaders  in  some  manner." 

"  Well — I  am  glad  it  wasn't  dancing.  And  now  go 
on  quick  before  they  come  back." 

Elizabeth  had  never  read  a  fairy  story  or  any  vivid  de- 


268        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

scription.  She  had  no  time  and  there  were  no  books  of 
that  kind  about  the  house.  She  fairly  reveled  in  Doris' 
brilliant  narrative.  She  had  seen  one  middle-aged 
couple  stand  up  to  be  married  after  the  Sunday  afternoon 
service,  and  she  had  heard  of  two  or  three  younger 
people  being  married  with  a  kind  of  wedding  supper. 
But  that  Doris  should  have  witnessed  all  this  herself! 
That  she  should  have  worn  a  wedding  gown  and  scat 
tered  flowers  before  the  bride! 

Ruth  was  tired  of  running.  "  I'm  sleepy,"  she  said. 
"  Unfasten  my  dress,  I  want  to  go  to  bed." 

Betty  and  the  boys  were  coming  up  the  path,  with  the 
shadowy  forms  of  the  grown  people  behind  them. 
Mr.  Manning  had  been  taking  a  nap  on  the  rude  kitchen 
settee,  his  Sunday  evening  indulgence.  Now  he  came 
through  the  hall. 

"  Boys,  children,  it's  time  to  go  to  bed.  You  are  all 
sleepy  enough  in  the  mornin',  but  you  would  sit  up  half 
the  night  if  someone  did  not  drive  you  off." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  lived  here,  Aunt  Betty,"  said  Foster 
for  a  good-night. 

Betty  and  Doris  were  almost  ready  for  bed  when  there 
was  a  little  sound  at  the  door,  pushed  open  by  Elizabeth, 
who  stood  there  in  her  plain,  scant  nightgown  with  a  dis 
traught  expression,  as  if  she  had  seen  a  ghost^________ 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Betty  or  Doris,  can  you  remember  the  text 
and  what  the  sermon  was  about?  We  always  say  it  to 
mother  after  tea  Sabbath  evening,  and  she'll  be  sure  to 
ask  me  to-morrow  morning.  And  I  can't  think!  I 
never  scarcely  do  forget.  Oh,  what  shall  I  do!  " 

Her  distress  was  so  genuine  that  Betty  folded  her 
in  her  arms.  Elizabeth  began  to  cry  at  the  tender 
touch. 

"  There,  little  Bessy,  don't  cry.  Let  me  see — I  re 
member  I  was  preaching  another  sermon  to  myself.  It 


ANOTHER   GIRL.  269 

was — '  Do  this  and  ye  shall  live.'  And  instead  of  all  the 
hard  things  he  put  in,  I  thought  of  the  kindly  things 
father  was  always  doing,  and  Uncle  Win,  and  mother, 
and  the  pleasant  things  instead  of  the  severe  laws.  And 
when  he  reached  his  lastly  he  said  no  one  could  keep  all 
the  laws,  and  because  they  could  not  the  Saviour  came 
and  died,  but  he  seemed  to  preach  as  if  the  old  laws  were 
still  in  force,  and  that  the  Saviour's  death  really  had  not 
changed  anything.  That  was  in  the  morning.  And  the 
afternoon  was  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  and  fishes." 

"  Yes — I  could  recall  that.  But  I  was  sure  mother 
would  ask  me  the  one  I  had  forgotten.  It  always  hap 
pens  that  way.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad.  Dear  Aunt  Betty! 
And  if  I  was  sometimes  called  Bessy,  as  you  called  me 
just  now,  or  Betty,  or  anything  besides  the  everlasting 
'Lisbeth.  Oh,  Doris,  how  happy  you  must  be " 

"  There,  dear,"  said  Betty  soothingly,  "  don't  cry  so. 
I  will  write  out  what  I  can  recall  on  a  slip  of  paper  and 
you  can  look  it  over  in  the  morning.  I  just  wish  you 
could  come  and  make  me  a  visit,  and  go  over  to  Uncle 
Win's.  Yes,  Doris  is  a  happy  little  girl." 

"  But  I  have  everything  in  the  world,"  said  Doris  with 
a  long  breath.  "  I  am  afraid  I  could  not  be  so  happy 
here.  Oh,  can't  we  take  Elizabeth  home  with  us? 
Betty,  coax  her  mother." 

"It  wouldn't  do  a  bit  of  good.  You  can't  coax  mother. 
And  there  is  always  so  much  work  in  the  summer.  I  am 
afraid  she  wouldn't  like  it — even  if  you  asked  her." 

"  But  James  came,  and  little  Ruth " 

"  They  were  too  young  to  work.  Oh,  it  would  be  like 
going  to  heaven! " 

"  It  may  be  sometime,  little  Bessy.  You  can  dream 
over  it." 

"  Good-night.     Would  you  kiss  me,  Doris?" 

The  happy  girl  kissed  her  a  dozen  times  instead  of 


270        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

once.  But  her  deep  eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she  turned 
to  Betty  when  the  small  figure  had  slipped  away. 

"  Yes,  it  is  a  hard  life,"  said  Betty.  "  It  seems  as  if 
children's  lives  ought  to  be  happier.  I  don't  know  what 
makes  Mary  so  hard.  I'm  sure  she  does  not  get  it  from 
father  or  mother.  She  appears  to  think  all  the  virtue  of 
the  world  lies  in  work.  I  wonder  what  such  people  will 
do  in  heaven !  " 

"  Oh,  Betty,  do  try  to  have  her  come  to  Boston.  I 
know  Uncle  Win  will  feel  sorry  for  her." 

Those  years  in  the  early  part  of  the  century  were  not 
happy  ones  for  childhood  in  general.  Too  much  happi 
ness  was  considered  demoralizing  in  this  world  and  a 
poor  preparation  for  the  next.  Work  was  the  great 
panacea  for  all  sorts  of  evils.  It  was  seldom  work  for 
one's  neighbors,  though  people  were  ready  to  go  in  sick 
ness  and  trouble.  It  was  adding  field  to  field  and 
interest  to  interest,  to  strive  and  save  and  wear  one's  self 
out  and  die. 

Elizabeth  was  up  betimes  the  next  morning,  and  there 
lay  the  paper  with  chapter  and  verse  and  some  "  re 
marks."  Her  heart  swelled  with  gratitude  as  she  ran 
downstairs.  Sarah  had  nmde  the  "  shed  "  fire  and  the 
big  wash  kettle  had  beenput  over  it.  She  was  rubbing 
out  the  first  clothes,  the  nicest  pieces. 

"  Now  fly  round,  'Lisbeth,"  said  her  mother.  "  You've 
dawdled  enough  these  few  days  back,  and  there'll  be  an 
account  to  settle  presently.  I  suppose  your  head  was  so 
full  of  that  bunch  of  vanity  you  never  remembered  a 
word  of  the  sermon  yesterday.  What  was  the  text  in  the 
morning?  " 

Elizabeth's  pale  face  turned  scarlet  and  her  lip  quiv 
ered;  her  slight  frame  seemed  to  shrink  a  moment,  then 
in  a  gasping  sort  of  way  she  gave  chapter  and  verse  and 
repeated  the  words. 


ANOTHER   GIRL.  271 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  it,"  said  her  mother  sharply. 
"  Ruth  was  in  a  fidget  just  as  the  text  was  given  out. 
Wasn't  that  last  Sunday's  text?  " 

"  Some  of  the  others  may  remember,"  the  child  said 
in  her  usual  apathetical  voice. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  act  as  if  you  were  going  to  have  a 
hysteric!  Hand  me  that  dish  of  beans.  Your  father 
likes  them  warmed  over.  Quick,  there  he  comes  now. 
You  stir  them." 

A  trivet  stood  on  the  glowing  coals,  and  the  pan  soon 
warmed  through.  Father  and  the  men  took  their  places. 
Foster  came  in  sleepily. 

"Where's  James?"  inquired  his  mother. 

"  I  don't  want  him  in  the  field  to-day.  He  can  weed 
in  the  garden.  You  send  him  with  the  dinners." 

"  Where  was  yesterday  morning's  text,  Foster?  "  Mrs. 
Manning  asked  sharply. 

The  boy  looked  up  blankly.  As  there  was  no  Sunday 
evening  examination  it  had  slipped  out  of  his  mind. 

"  It  was  something  about — keeping  the  law — 
doing " 

James  entered  at  that  moment  and  had  heard  the  ques 
tion  and  hesitating  reply. 

"  I  can't  remember  chapter  and  verse,  but  it  was  short, 
and  I  just  rammed  the  words  down  in  my  memory  box. 
'  Do  this  and  ye  shall  live.'  " 

"  James,  no  such  irreverence,"  exclaimed  his  father. 

Elizabeth  in  the  kitchen  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 
She  wondered  whether  his  mother  would  have  taken 
Aunt  Betty's  word. 

Monday  morning  was  always  a  hard  time.  Sarah  re 
quired  looking  after,  for  her  memory  lapses  were  fre 
quent.  Mr.  Manning  said  a  good  birch  switch  was  the 
best  remedy  he  knew.  But  though  a  hundred  years  be 
fore  people  had  thought  nothing  of  whipping  their 


272        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

servants,  public  opinion  was  against  it  now.  Mrs.  Man 
ning  did  sometimes  box  her  ears  when  she  was  over 
much  tired.  But  she  was  a  very  faithful  worker. 

Elizabeth  gave  Ruth  and  baby  Hester  their  breakfast. 
Then  Betty  came  down,  and  insisted  upon  getting  the 
next  breakfast  while  Mrs.  Manning  hung  up  her  first 
clothes.  She  had  been  scolding  to  Betty  about  people 
having  no  thought  or  care  as  to  how  they  put  back  the 
work  with  their  late  breakfast.  But  when  Betty  cooked 
and  served  it,  and  insisted  upon  washing  up  the  dishes; 
and  Doris  amused  the  baby,  who  was  not  well,  and  helped 
Ruth  shell  the  pease  for  dinner;  when  the  washing  and 
cfiurning  were  out  of  the  way  long  before  noon,  and 
Elizabeth  was  folding  down  the  clothes  for  ironing  while 
Sarah  and  her  mother  prepared  the  dinner  and  sent  it  out 
to  the  men — the  child  couldn't  see  that  things  were  at  all 
behindhand. 

Sarah  and  Elizabeth  ironed  in  the  afternoon.  Mrs. 
Manning  brought  out  her  sewing  and  Betty  helped  on 
some/frocks  for  the  children.  Two  old  neighbors  came 
in  to  supper,  bringing  two  little  girls  who  were  wonder 
fully  attracted  by  Doris  and  delighted  to  be  amused  in 
quite  a  new  fashion.  But  Elizabeth  was  too  busy  to  be 
spared. 

After  supper  was  cleared  away  and  the  visitors  had 
gone  Elizabeth  brought  her  knitting  and  sat  on  the 
stoop  step  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Oh,  don't  knit!  "  cried  Doris.     "  You  look  so  tired." 

"  I'd  like  to  go  to  bed  this  minute,"  said  the  child. 
"  But  last  week  I  fell  behind.  You  see,  there  are  so 
many  to  wear  stockings,  and  the  boys  do  rattle  them  out 
so  fast.  We  try  to  get  most  of  the  new  knitting  done  in 
the  summer,  for  autumn  brings  so  much  work.  And  if 
you  will  talk  to  me — I  like  so  to  hear  about  Boston  and 
Madam  Royall's  beautiful  house  and  your  Uncle  Win. 


ANOTHER   GIRL.  273 

It  must  be  like  reading  some  interesting  book.  Oh,  I 
wish  I  could  come  and  stay  a  whole  week  with  you !  " 

"A  week!"  Doris  laughed.  "Why,  you  couldn't 
see  it  all  in  a  month,  or  a  year.  Every  day  I  am  finding 
something  new  about  Boston,  and  Miss  Recompense 
remembers  so  many  queer  stories.  I'm  going  to  tell  her 
all  about  you.  I  know  she'll  be  real  nice  about  your 
coming.  Everything  is  as  Uncle  Win  says,  but  he 
always  asks  her." 

Doris  could  make  her  little  descriptions  very  vivid  and 
attractive.  At  first  Elizabeth  replied  by  exclamations, 
then  there  was  quite  a  silence.  Doris  looked  at  her. 
She  was  leaning  against  the  post  of  the  porch  and  her 
needles  no  longer  clicked,  though  she  held  the  stocking 
in  its  place.  The  poor  child  had  fallen  fast  asleep.  The 
moonlight  made  her  look  so  ghostly  pale  that  at  first 
Doris  was  startled. 

The  three  ladies  came  out,  but  Elizabeth  never  stirred. 
When  her  mother  spied  her  she  shook  her  sharply  by  the 
shoulder. 

"Poor  child!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  King.  "Elizabeth, 
put  up  your  work  and  go  to  bed." 

"  If  you  are  too  sleepy  to  knit,  put  up  your  work  and 
go  out  and  knead  on  the  bread  a  spell.  Sarah  always 
gets  it  lumpy  if  you  don't  watch  her,"  said  Mrs.  Manning. 

Elizabeth  gathered  up  her  ball  and  went  without  a 
word. 

"  I'll  knit  for  you,"  said  Betty,  intercepting  her,  and 
taking  the  work. 

"  Mary,  you  will  kill  that  child  presently,  and  when 
you  have  buried  her  I  hope  you  will  be  satisfied  to  give 
Ruth  a  chance  for  her  life,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  King  indig 
nantly. 

"  I  can't  afford  to  bring  my  children  up  in  idleness, 
and  if  I  could,  I  hope  I  have  too  great  a  sense  of  respon- 


274        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

sibility  and  my  duty  toward  them.  I  was  trained  to 
work,  and  I've  been  thankful  many  a  time  that  I  didn't 
have  to  waste  grown-up  years  in  learning." 

"  We  didn't  work  like  that.  Then  father  had  given 
some  years  to  his  country  and  we  were  poor.  You  have 
no  need,  and  it  is  cruel  to  make  such  a  slave  of  a  child. 
She  does  a  woman's  work." 

"  I  am  quite  capable  of  governing  my  own  family, 
Electa,  and  I  think  I  know  what  is  best  and  right  for 
them.  We  can't  afford  to  bring  up  fine  ladies  and  teach 
them  French  and  other  trumpery.  If  Elizabeth  is  fitted 
for  a  plain  farmer's  wife,  that  is  all  I  ask.  She  won't  be 
likely  to  marry  a  President  or  a  foreign  lord,  and  if  we 
have  a  few  hundred  dollars  to  start  her  in  life,  maybe  she 
won't  object." 

"  You  had  better  give  her  a  little  comfort  now  instead 
of  adding  farm  to  farm,  and  saving  up  so  much  for  the 
woman  who  will  come  in  here  when  you  are  dead  and 
gone.  Think  of  the  men  who  have  second  and  third 
wives  and  whose  children  are  often  turned  adrift  to  look 
out  for  themselves.  Hundreds  of  poor  women  are  living 
hard  and  joyless  lives  just  to  save  up  money.  And  it  is 
a  shame  to  grind  their  children  to  the  lowest  ebb." 

Mrs.  Manning  was  very  angry.  She  had  no  argument 
at  hand,  so  she  turned  in  an  arrogant  manner  and  said 
austerely : 

"  I  had  better  go  and  look  after  my  daughter,  to  see 
that  she  doesn't  work  herself  quite  to  death.  But  I  don't 
know  what  we  should  do  without  bread." 

"  Now  you  have  done  it!  "  cried  Betty.  "  I  only  hope 
she  won't  vent  her  anger  on  the  poor  child." 

"  It  is  a  curious  thing,"  said  Mrs.  King  reflectively, 
"that  women — well,  men  too — make  such  a  point  of 
church-going  on  Sunday,  and  hardly  allow  the  poor  chil 
dren  to  draw  a  comfortable  breath,  and  on  Monday  act 


ANOTHER  GIRL.  275 

like  fiends.  Women  especially  seem  to  think  they  have  a 
right  to  indulge  in  dreadful  tempers  on  washing  day,  and 
drive  all  before  them.  Think  of  the  work  that  has  been 
done  in  this  house  to-day,  and  the  picture  of  Elizabeth, 
worn  out,  falling  asleep  over  her  knitting.  I  should 
have  sent  her  to  bed  with  the  chickens.  I'd  like  to  take 
her  home  with  me,  but  it  would  spoil  her  for  the  farm." 

Betty  knit  away  on  the  stocking.  "  I  can't  see  what 
makes  Mary  so  hard  and  grasping,"  she  said.  "  It 
troubles  mother  a  good  deal." 

When  they  went  in  the  house  was  quiet  and  the 
kitchen  dark.  Mrs.  Manning  sat  sewing.  Their  candles 
were  on  the  table.  Betty  and  Mrs.  King  said  a  cordial 
good-night. 

The  sisters-in-law  were  to  come  the  next  day,  and 
grandmother  Manning,  with  an  addition  of  four  children. 
The  Salem  sister,  Mrs.  Gates,  was  stout  and  pleasant;  the 
farmer  sister  thin  and  with  a  troublesome  cough,  and  she 
had  a  young  baby  besides  her  little  girl  of  six.  She  was 
to  make  a  visit  in  Salem,  and  doctor  somewhat,  to  see  if 
she  could  not  get  over  her  cough  before  cold  weather. 

The  children  were  turned  out  of  doors  on  the  grassy 
roadside,  where  they  couldn't  hurt  anything.  Mrs.  Gates 
and  Betty  helped  in  the  kitchen,  and  after  the  dinner  was 
cleared  away  Elizabeth  was  allowed  to  put  on  her  second- 
best  gingham  and  go  out  with  the  children.  They  ran 
and  played  and  screamed  and  laughed. 

"  I'd  a  hundred  times  rather  sit  still  and  hear  you  talk," 
she  said  to  Doris.  "  And  I'm  awful  sorry  to  have  you 
go  to-morrow.  Even  when  I  am  busy  it  is  so  nice  just 
to  look  at  you,  with  your  beautiful  hair  and  your  dark 
eyes,  and  your  skin  that  is  like  velvet  and  doesn't  seem 
to  tan  or  freckle.  Foster  hates  freckles  so." 

Doris  flushed  at  the  compliment. 

"  I  wonder  how  it  would  seem  to  be  as  pretty  as  you 


276        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

are?  And  you're  not  a  bit  set  up  about  your  fine  clothes 
and  all.  I  s'pose  when  you're  born  that  way  you're  so 
used  to  it,  and  there  aint  anything  to  wish  for.  I'm  so 
glad  you  could  come.  And  I  do  hope  you  will  come 
again." 

They  parted  very  good  friends.  Mrs.  King  had  been 
quite  generous  to  the  small  people,  and  Mrs.  Manning 
really  loved  her  sister,  although  she  considered  her  very 
lax  and  extravagant.  No  one  could  tell  what  was  be 
fore  him,  and  thrift  and  prudence  were  the  great  virtues 
of  those  days.  True,  they  often  degenerated  into  penu- 
riousness  and  labor  that  was  early  and  late — so  severe, 
indeed,  it  cost  many  a  life;  and  the  people  who  came  after 
reaped  the  benefit. 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

WINTER    AND     SORROW. 

Uncle  Win,"  exclaimed  Doris,  "  I  can't  be  sorry 
that  I  went  to  Salem,  and  I've  had  a  queer,  delight 
ful  time  seeing  so  many  strange  things  and  hearing 
stories  about  them!  But  I  am  very,  very  glad  to  get 
back  to  Boston,  and  gladdest  of  all  to  be  your  little  girl. 
There  isn't  anybody  in  the  whole  wide  world  I'd  change 
you  for!  " 

Her  arms  were  about  him.  He  was  so  tall  that  she 
could  not  quite  reach  up  to  his  neck  when  he  stood 
straight,  but  he  had  a  way  of  bending  over,  and  she  was 
growing,  and  the  clasp  gave  him  a  thrill  of  exquisite 
pleasure. 

"  I've  missed  my  little  girl  a  great  deal,"  he  said.  "  I 
am  afraid  I  shall  never  want  you  to  go  away  again." 

"  The  next  time  you  must  go  with  me.  Though  Betty 
was  delightful  and  Mrs.  King  is  just  splendid." 

They  had  famous  talks  about  Salem  afterward,  and  the 


WINTER   AND    SORROW.  277 

little  towns  around.  Miss  Recompense  said  now  she 
shouldn't  know  how  to  live  without  a  child  in  the  house. 
Mrs.  King  went  home  to  her  husband  and  little  ones,  and 
Doris  imagined  the  joy  in  greeting  such  a  fond  mother. 
Uncle  Win  half  promised  he  would  visit  New  York 
sometime.  Even  Aunt  Priscilla  was  pleased  when  Doris 
came  up  to  Sudbury  Street,  and  wanted  her  full  share  of 
every  visit.  And  they  were  all  amazed  when  she  went 
over  to  Uncle  Win's  to  spend  a  day  and  was  very  cordial 
with  Miss  Recompense.  They  had  a  nice  chat  about  the 
old  times  and  the  Salem  witches  and  the  dead  and  gone 
Governors — even  Governor  and  Lady  Gage,  who  had 
been  very  gay  in  her  day ;  and  both  women  had  seen  her 
riding  about  in  her  elegant  carriage,  often  with  a  hand 
some  young  girl  at  her  side. 

She  had  some  business,  too,  with  Uncle  Win.  They 
were  in  the  study  a  long  while  together. 

"  Living  with  the  Leveretts  has  certainly  changed 
Aunt  Priscilla  very  much,"  he  said  later  in  the  evening 
to  Miss  Recompense.  "  I  begin  to  think  it  is  not  good 
for  people  to  live  so  much  alone  when  they  are  going 
down  the  shady  side  of  life.  Or  perhaps  it  would  not  be 
so  shady  if  they  would  allow  a  little  sun  to  shine  in  it." 

Solomon  was  full  of  purring  content  and  growing 
lazier  every  day.  Latterly  he  had  courted  Uncle  Win's 
society.  There  was  a  wide  ledge  in  one  of  the  southern 
windows,  and  Doris  made  a  cushion  to  fit  one  end.  He 
loved  to  lie  here  and  bask  in  the  sunshine.  When  there 
was  a  fire  on  the  hearth  he  had  another  cushion  in  the 
corner.  Sometimes  he  sauntered  around  and  inter 
viewed  the  books  quite  as  if  he  was  aware  of  their  con 
tents.  He  considered  that  he  had  a  supreme  right  to 
Doris'  lap,  and  he  sometimes  had  half  a  mind  to  spring 
up  on  Uncle  Win's  knee,  but  the  invitation  did  not  seem 
sufficiently  pressing. 


278       A   LITTLE  GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Gary  was  at  home  regularly  now,  except  that  he  spent 
one  night  every  week  with  a  friend  at  Charlestown,  and 
went  frequently  to  the  Cragies'  to  meet  some  of  his 
old  chums.  He  had  not  appeared  to  care  much  for 
Doris  at  first,  and  she  was  rather  shy.  Latterly  they  had 
become  quite  friends. 

But  it  seemed  to  Doris  that  he  was  so  much  gayer  and 
brighter  at  Madam  Royall's,  where  he  certainly  was  a 
great  favorite.  Miss  Alice  was  very  brilliant  and  charm 
ing.  They  were  always  having  hosts  of  company.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Winslow  were  at  the  head  of  one  circle  in 
society.  And  this  autumn  Miss  Jane  Morse  was  married 
and  went  to  live  in  Sheaffe  Street  in  handsome  style.  She 
had  done  very  well  indeed.  Betty  was  one  of  the  brides 
maids  and  wore  a  white  India  silk  in  which  she  looked 
quite  a  beauty. 

Miss  Helen  Chapman  was  transferred  to  Mrs.  Row- 
son's  school  to  be  finished.  Doris  and  Eudora  still  at 
tended  Miss  Parker's.  But  Madam  Royall  had  treated 
the  girls  to  the  new  instrument  coming  into  vogue,  the 
pianoforte.  It's  tone  was  so  much  richer  and  deeper 
than  the  old  spinet.  She  liked  it  very  much  herself. 
Doris  was  quite  wild  over  it.  Madam  Royal  begged  that 
she  might  be  allowed  to  take  lessons  on  it  with  the  girls. 
Uncle  Winthrop  said  in  a  year  or  two  she  might  have 
one  if  she  liked  it  and  could  learn  to  play. 

She  and  Betty  used  to  talk  about  Elizabeth  Manning. 
There  was  a  new  baby  now,  another  little  boy.  Mrs. 
Leverett  made  a  visit  and  brought  home  Hester,  to  ease 
up  things  for  the  winter.  Elizabeth  couldn't  go  to 
school  any  more,  there  was  so  much  to  do.  She  wrote 
Doris  quite  a  long  letter  and  sent  it  by  grandmother. 
Postage  was  high  then,  and  people  did  not  write  much 
for  pure  pleasure. 

And  just  before  the  new  year,  when  Betty  was  planning 


WINTER  AND   SORROW.  279 

to  go  to  New  York  for  her  visit  to  Mrs.  King,  a  great 
sorrow  came  to  all  of  them.  Uncle  Leverett  had  not 
seemed  well  all  the  fall,  though  he  was  for  the  most  part 
his  usual  happy  self,  but  business  anxieties  pressed 
deeply  upon  him  and  Warren.  He  used  to  drop  in  now 
and  then  and  take  tea  with  Cousin  Winthrop,  and  as  they 
sat  round  the  cheerful  fire  Doris  would  bring  her  stool 
to  his  side  and  slip  her  hand  in  his  as  she  had  that  first 
winter.  She  was  growing  tall  quite  rapidly  now,  and 
pretty  by  the  minute,  Uncle  Leverett  said. 

There  was  no  end  of  disquieting  rumors.  American 
shipping  was  greatly  interfered  with  and  American  sea 
men  impressed  aboard  British  ships  by  the  hundreds, 
often  to  desert  at  the  first  opportunity.  Merchantmen 
were  deprived  of  the  best  of  their  crews  for  the  British 
navy,  as  that  country  was  carrying  on  several  wars;  and 
now  Wellington  had  gone  to  the  assistance  of  the 
Spanish,  and  all  Europe  was  trying  to  break  the  power 
of  Napoleon,  who  had  set  out  since  the  birth  of  his  son, 
now  crowned  King  of  Rome,  to  subdue  all  the  nations. 

The  Leopard-Chesapeake  affair  had  nearly  plunged  us 
into  war,  but  it  was  promptly  disavowed  by  the  British 
Government  and  some  indemnity  paid.  There  was  a 
powerful  sentiment  opposed  to  war  in  New  York  and 
New  England,  but  the  people  were  becoming  much  in 
flamed  under  repeated  outrages.  Young  men  were 
training  in  companies  and  studying  up  naval  matters. 
The  country  had  so  few  ships  then  that  to  rush  into  a 
struggle  was  considered  madness. 

Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  was  among  those  bitterly  op 
posed  to  war.  Gary  was  strongly  imbued  with  a  young 
man's  patriotic  enthusiasm.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
talk  at  Madam  Royall's,  and  a  young  lieutenant  had  been 
quite  a  frequent  visitor  and  was  an  admirer  also  of  the 
fair  Miss  Alice.  Then  Alfred  Barron,  his  friend  at 


28o        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD  BOSTON. 

Charlestown,  had  entered  the  naval  service.  Studying 
law  seemed  dry  and  tiresome  to  the  young  fellow  when 
such  stirring  events  were  happening  on  every  side. 

Uncle  Leverett  took  a  hard  cold  early  in  the  new  year. 
He  was  indoors  several  days,  then  some  business  diffi 
culties  seemed  to  demand  his  attention  and  he  went  out 
again.  A  fever  set  in,  and  though  at  first  it  did  not  ap 
pear  serious,  after  a  week  the  doctor  began  to  look  very 
grave.  Betty  stopped  her  preparations  and  wrote  a 
rather  apprehensive  letter  to  Mrs.  King. 

One  day  Uncle  Win  was  sent  for,  and  remained  all  the 
afternoon  and  evening.  The  next  morning  he  went 
down  to  the  store. 

"  I'm  afraid  father's  worse,"  said  Warren.  "  His  fever 
was  very  high  through  the  night,  and  he  was  flighty,  and 
now  he  seems  to  be  in  a  sort  of  stupor,  with  a  very  feeble 
pulse.  Oh,  Uncle  Win,  I  haven't  once  thought  of  his 
dying,  and  now  I  am  awfully  afraid.  Business  is  in  such 
a  dreadful  way.  That  has  worried  him." 

Mr.  Adams  went  up  to  Sudbury  Street  at  once.  The 
doctor  was  there. 

"  There  has  been  a  great  change  since  yesterday,"  he 
said  gravely.  "  We  must  prepare  for  the  worst.  It  has 
taken  me  by  surprise,  for  he  bid  fair  to  pull  through." 

Alas,  the  fears  were  only  too  true !  By  night  they  had 
all  given  up  hope  and  watched  tearfully  for  the  next 
twenty-four  hours,  when  the  kindly,  upright  life  that  had 
blessed  so  many  went  to  its  own  reward. 

To  Doris  is  seemed  incredible.  That  poor  Miss  Hen 
rietta  Maria  should  slip  out  of  life  was  only  a  release,  and 
that  Miss  Arabella  in  the  ripeness  of  age  should  follow 
had  awakened  in  her  heart  no  real  sorrow,  but  a  gentle 
sense  of  their  having  gained  something  in  another  world. 
But  Uncle  Leverett  had  so  much  here,  so  many  to  love 
him  and  to  need  him. 


WINTER   AND   SORROW.  281 

Death,  the  mystery  to  all  of  us,  is  doubly  so  to  the 
young.  When  Doris  looked  on  Uncle  Leverett's  placid 
face  she  was  very  sure  he  could  not  be  really  gone,  but 
mysteriously  asleep. 

Yes,  little  Doris — the  active,  loving,  thinking  man  had 
"  fallen  on  sleep,"  and  the  soul  had  gone  to  its  reward. 

Foster  Leverett  had  been  very  much  respected,  and 
there  were  many  friends  to  follow  him  to  his  grave  in  the 
old  Granary  burying  ground,  where  the  Fosters  and 
Leveretts  rested  from  their  labors.  There  on  the  walk 
stood  the  noble  row  of  elms  that  Captain  Adino  Pad 
dock  had  imported  from  England  a  dozen  years  before 
the  Revolutionary  War  broke  out,  in  their  very  pride  of 
strength  and  grandeur  now,  even  if  they  were  leafless. 

It  seemed  very  hard  and  cruel  to  leave  him  here  in  the 
bleakness  of  midwinter,  Doris  thought.  And  he  was 
not  really  dead  to  her  until  the  bearers  turned  away  with 
empty  hands,  and  the  friends  with  sorrowful  Meeting 
passed  out  of  the  inclosure  and  left  him  alon<Fto  the 
coming  evening  and  the  requiem  of  the  wind  soughing 
through  the  trees. 

Doris  sat  by  Miss  Recompense  that  evening  with  Solo 
mon  on  her  lap.  She  could  not  study,  she  did  not  want 
to  read  or  sew  or  make  lace.  Uncle  Winthrop  had  gone 
up  to  Sudbury  Street.  All  the  family  were  to  be  there. 
The  Kings  had  come  from  New  York  and  the  Mannings 
from  Salem. 

"  Oh,"  said  Doris,  after  a  long  silence,  "  how  can  Aunt 
Elizabeth  live,  and  Betty  and  Warren,  when  they  cannot 
see  uncle  Leverett  any  more!  And  there  are  so  many 
things  to  talk  about,  only  they  can  never  ask  him  any 
questions,  and  he  was  so — so  comforting.  He  was  the 
first  one  that  came  to  me  on  the  vessel,  you  know,  and  he 
said  to  Captain  Grier,  '  Have  you  a  little  girl  who  has 
come  from  Old  Boston  to  New  Boston? '  Then  he  put 


282        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

his  arm  around  me,  and  I  liked  him  right  away.  And 
the  great  fire  in  the  hall  was  so  lovely.  I  liked  every 
body  but  Aunt  Priscilla,  and  now  I  feel  sorry  for  her  and 
like  her  a  good  deal.  Sometimes  she  gets  queer  and 
what  she  calls  '  pudgicky.'  But  she  is  real  good  to 
Betty." 

"  She's  a  sensible,  clear-headed  woman,  and  she  has 
good  solid  principles.  I  do  suppose  we  all  get  a  little 
queer.  I  can  see  it  in  myself." 

"  Oh,  dear  Miss  Recompense,  you  are  not  queer,"  pro 
tested  Doris,  seizing  her  hand.  "  When  I  first  came  I 
was  a  little  afraid — you  were  so  very  nice.  And  then  I 
remembered  that  Miss  Arabella  had  all  these  nice  ways, 
and  could  not  bear  a  cloth  askew  nor  towels  wrinkled 
instead  of  being  laid  straight,  nor  anything  spilled  at  the 
table,  nor  an  untidy  room,  and  she  was  very  sweet  and 
nice.  And  then  I  tried  to  be  as  neat  as  I  could." 

"  I  knew  you  had  been  well  brought  up."  Miss 
Recompense  was  pleased  always  to  be  compared  to  her 
"  dear  Miss  Arabella."  There  was  something  grateful 
to  her  woman's  heart,  that  had  long  ago  held  a  longing 
for  a  child  of  her  own,  in  the  ardent  tone  Doris  always 
uttered  this  endearment. 

"Miss  Recompense,  don't  you  think  there  is  something 
in  people  loving  you?  You  want  to  love  them  in  return. 
You  want  to  do  the  things  they  like.  And  when  they 
smile  and  are  glad,  your  whole  heart  is  light  with  a  kind 
of  inward  sunshine.  And  I  think  if  Mrs.  Manning 
would  smile  on  Elizabeth  once  in  a  while,  and  tell  her 
what  she  did  was  nice,  and  that  she  was  smart, — for  she 
is  very,  very  smart, — I  know  it  would  comfort  her." 

"  You  see,  people  haven't  thought  it  was  best  to  praise 
children.  ,They  rarely  did  in  my  day." 

"  But  Uncle  Leverett  praised  Warren  and  Betty,  and 


WINTER  AND   SORROW.  283 

always  said  what  Aunt  Elizabeth  cooked  and  did  was 
delightful." 

"  Foster  Lever ett  was  one  man  out  of  a  thousand. 
They  will  all  miss  him  dreadfully." 

Aunt  Priscilla  would  have  been  amazed  to  know  that 
Mr.  Leverett  had  been  in  the  estimation  of  Miss  Recom 
pense  an  ideal  husband.  Years  ago  she  had  compared 
other  men  with  him  and  found  them  wanting. 

Uncle  Win  was  much  surprised  to  find  them  sitting 
there  talking  when  he  came  home,  for  it  was  ten  o'clock. 
Gary  returned  shortly  after,  and  the  two  men  retired  to 
the  study.  But  there  was  a  curious  half-dread  of  some 
intangible  influence  that  kept  Doris  awake  a  long  while. 
The  wind  moaned  outside  and  now  and  then  raised  to  a 
somber  gust  sweeping  across  the  wide  Common.  Oh, 
how  lonely  it  must  be  in  the  old  burying  ground! 

Mr.  Leverett's  will  had  been  read  that  evening.  The 
business  was  left  to  Warren,  as  Hollis  had  most  of  his 
share  years  before.  To  the  married  daughters  a  small 
remembrance,  to  Betty  and  her  mother  the  house  in  Sud- 
bury  Street,  to  be  kept  or  sold  as  they  should  elect;  if 
sold,  they  were  to  share  equally. 

Mrs.  King  was  very  well  satisfied.  In  the  present 
state  of  affairs  Warren's  part  was  very  uncertain,  and 
his  married  sisters  were  to  be  paid  out  of  that.  The 
building  was  old,  and  though  the  lot  was  in  a  good  busi 
ness  location,  the  value  at  that  time  was  not  great. 

"  It  seems  to  me  the  estate  ought  to  be  worth  more," 
said  Mrs.  Manning.  "  I  did  suppose  father  was  quite 
well  off,  and  had  considerable  ready  money." 

"  So  he  did  two  years  ago,"  answered  Warren.  "  But 
it  has  been  spent  in  the  effort  to  keep  afloat.  If  the 
times  should  ever  get  better " 

"You'll  pull  through,"  said  Hollis  encouragingly. 


284        A    LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

He  had  not  suffered  so  much  from  the  hard  times,  and 
was  prospering. 

The  will  had  been  remade  six  months  before,  after  a 
good  deal  of  consideration. 

When  Mrs.  King  went  home,  a  few  days  after,  she  said 
privately  to  Warren :  "  Do  not  trouble  about  my  legacy, 
and  if  you  come  to  hard  places  I  am  sure  Matt  will  help 
you  out  if  he  possibly  can." 

Warren  thanked  her  in  a  broken  voice. 

Mr.  King  said  nearly  the  same  thing  as  he  grasped  the 
young  fellow's  hand. 

They  were  a  very  lonely  household.  Of  course,  Betty 
could  not  think  of  going  away.  And  now  that  they 
knew  what  a  struggle  it  had  been  for  some  time  to  keep 
matters  going  comfortably,  they  cast  about  to  see  what 
retrenchment  could  be  made.  Even  if  they  wanted  to, 
this  would  be  no  time  to  sell.  The  house  seemed  much 
too  large  for  them,  yet  it  was  not  planned  so  that  any 
could  be  rented  out. 

"If  you're  set  upon  that,"  said  Aunt  Priscilla,  "I'll  take 
the  spare  rooms,  whether  I  need  them  or  not.  And  we 
will  just  go  on  together.  Strange  though  that  Foster, 
who  was  so  much  needed,  should  be  taken,  and  I,  without 
a  chick  or  a  child,  and  so  much  older,  be  left  behind." 

There  was  a  new  trustee  to  be  looked  up  for  Doris. 
A  much  younger  man  was  needed.  If  Gary  were  five  or 
six  years  older!  Foster  Leverett's  death  was  a  great 
shock  to  Winthrop  Adams.  Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if 
a  shadowy  form  hovered  over  his  shoulder,  warning  him 
that  middle  life  was  passing.  He  had  a  keen  disappoint 
ment,  too,  in  his  son.  He  had  hoped  to  find  in  him  an 
intellectual  companion  as  the  years  went  on,  but  he  could 
plainly  see  that  his  heart  was  not  in  his  profession.  The 
young  fellow's  ardor  had  been  aroused  on  other  lines 
that  brought  him  in  direct  opposition  to  the  elder's 


WINTER  AND   SORROW.  285 

views.  He  had  gone  so  far  as  to  ask  his  father's  per 
mission  to  enlist  in  the  navy,  which  had  been  refused,  not 
only  with  prompt  decision,  but  with  a  feeling  of  amaze 
ment  that  a  son  of  his  should  have  proposed  such  a 
step. 

Gary  had  the  larger  love  of  country  and  the  enthu 
siasm  of  youth.  His  father  was  deeply  interested  in  the 
welfare  and  standing  of  the  city,  and  he  desired  it  to  keep 
at  the  head.  He  had  hoped  to  see  his  son  one  of  the 
rising  men  of  the  coming  generation.  War  horrified 
him:  it  called  forth  the  cruel  and  brutal  side  of  most 
men,  and  was  to  be  undertaken  only  for  extremely 
urgent  reasons  as  the  last  hope  and  salvation  of  one's 
country.  We  had  gained  a  right  to  stand  among  the 
nations  of  the  world ;  it  was  time  now  that  we  should  take 
upon  ourselves  something  higher — the  cultivation  of 
literature  and  the  fine  arts.  To  plunge  the  country  into 
war  again  would  be  setting  it  back  decades. 

He  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  the  meetings 
of  the  Anthology  Club  and  the  effort  they  had  made  to 
keep  afloat  a  Magazine  of  Polite  Literature.  The  little 
supper,  which  was  very  plain;  the  literary  chat;  the 
discussions  of  English  poets  and  essayists,  several  of 
which  were  reprinted  at  this  era;  and  the  encouragement 
of  native  writers,  of  whom  there  were  but  few  except  in 
the  line  of  sermons  and  orations.  By  1793  there  had 
been  two  American  novels  published,  and  though  we 
should  smile  over  them  now  we  can  find  their  compeers 
in  several  of  the  old  English  novels  that  crop  out  now 
and  then,  exhumed  from  what  was  meant  to  be  a  kindly 
oblivion. 

The  magazine  had  been  given  up,  and  the  life  some 
how  had  gone  out  of  the  club.  There  was  a  plan  to 
form  a  reading  room  and  library  to  take  its  place.  Men 
like  Mr.  Adams  were  anxious  to  advance  the  intellectual 


286        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

reputation  of  the  town,  though  few  people  found  suffi 
cient  leisure  to  devote  to  the  idea  of  a  national  literature. 
Others  said :  "  What  need,  when  we  have  the  world  of 
brilliant  English  thinkers  that  we  can  never  excel,  the 
poets,  and  novelists!  Let  us  study  those  and  be  content." 

The  incidents  of  the  winter  had  been  quite  depressing 
to  Mr.  Adams.  Gary  was  around  to  the  Royalls'  nearly 
every  evening,  sometimes  to  other  places,  and  at  dis 
cussions  that  would  have  alarmed  his  father  still  more  if 
he  had  known  it.  The  young  fellow's  conscience  gave 
him  many  twinges.  "  Children,  obey  your  parents  "  had 
been  instilled  into  every  generation  and  until  a  boy  was 
of  age  he  had  no  lawful  right  to  think  for  himself. 

So  it  happened  that  Doris  became  more  of  a  com 
panion  to  Uncle  Win.  They  rambled  about  as  the 
spring  opened  and  noted  the  improvements.  Old  Frog 
Lane  was  being  changed  into  Boylston  Street.  Every 
year  the  historic  Common  took  on  some  new  charm. 
There  was  the  Old  Elm,  that  dated  back  to  tradition,  for 
no  one  could  remember  its  youth.  She  was  interested 
in  the  conflicts  that  had  ushered  in  the  freedom  of  the 
American  Colonies.  Here  the  British  waited  behind 
their  earthworks  for  Washington  to  attack  them,  just  as 
every  winter  boys  congregated  behind  their  snowy  walls 
and  fought  mimic  battles.  Indeed,  during  General 
Gage's  administration  the  soldiers  had  driven  the  boys 
off  their  coasting  place  on  the  Common,  and  in  a  body 
they  had  gone  to  the  Governor  and  demanded  their 
rights,  which  were  restored  to  them.  Many  a  famous 
celebration  had  occurred  here,  and  here  the  militia  met 
on  training  days  and  had  their  banquets  in  tents.  At  the 
first  training  all  the  colored  population  was  allowed  to 
throng  the  Common;  but  at  the  second,  when  the  Ancient 
and  Honorable  Artillery  chose  its  new  officers,  they  were 
strictly  prohibited. 


WINTER   AND   SORROW.  287 

Many  of  the  ropewalks  up  at  the  northern  end  were 
silent  now.  Indeed,  everybody  seemed  waiting  with 
bated  breath  for  something  to  happen,  but  all  nature 
went  on1  its  usual  way  and  made  the  town  a  little 
world  of  beauty  with  wild  flowers  and  shrubs  and  the 
gardens  coming  into  bloom,  and  the  myriads  of  fruit 
trees  with  their  crowns  of  snowy  white  and  pink  in  all 
gradations. 

"  I  think  the  world  never  was  so  beautiful,"  said  Doris 
to  Uncle  Winthrop. 

It  was  so  delightful  to  have  such  an  appreciative  com 
panion,  even  if  she  was  only  a  little  girl. 

Gary's  birthday  was  the  last  of  May,  and  it  was  de 
cided  to  have  the  family  party  at  the  same  time.  Gary's 
young  friends  would  be  invited  in  the  evening,  but  for 
the  elders  there  would  be  the  regular  supper. 

"  You  will  have  your  freedom  suit,  and  afterward  you 
can  do  just  as  you  like,"  said  Doris  laughingly.  She 
and  Gary  had  been  quite  friendly  of  late,  young- 
mannish  reserve  having  given  place  to  a  brotherly 
regard. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  can  do  just  as  I  like?"  He 
studied  the  eager  face. 

"  Of  course  you  wouldn't  want  to  do  anything  Uncle 
Win  would  not  like." 

Gary  flushed.  "  I  wonder  if  fathers  always  know 
what  is  best?  And  when  you  are  a  man "  he  began. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  study  law?  " 

"  Under  some  circumstances  I  should  like  it." 

"  Would  you  like  keeping  a  store  or  having  a  factory, 
or  building  beautiful  houses — architecture,  I  believe,  the 
fine  part  is  called.  Or  painting  portraits  like  Copley  and 
Stuart  and  the  young  Mr.  Allston  up  in  Court  Street." 

"  No,  I  can't  aspire  to  that  kind  of  genius,  and  I  am 
sure  I  shouldn't  like  shop-keeping.  I  am  just  an  ordi- 


288        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

nary  young  fellow  and  I  am  afraid  I  shall  always  be  a 
disappointment  to  the  kindest  of  fathers.  I  wish  there 
were  three  or  four  other  children." 

"  How  strange  it  would  seem,"  returned  Doris  mus 
ingly. 

"  I  am  glad  he  has  you,  little  Doris." 

"  Are  you  really  glad? "  Her  face  was  alight  with 
joy.  "  Sometimes  I  have  almost  wondered " 

"  Don't  wonder  any  more.  You  are  like  a  dear  little 
sister.  During  the  last  six  months  it  has  been  a  great 
pleasure  to  me  to  see  father  so  fond  of  you.  I  hope  you 
will  never  go  away." 

"  I  don't  mean  to.  I  love  Uncle  Win  dearly.  It  used 
to  trouble  me  sometimes  when  Uncle  Leverett  was  alive, 
lest  I  couldn't  love  quite  even,  you  know,"  and  a  tiny 
line  came  in  her  smooth  brow. 

"  What  an  idea !  "  with  a  soft  smile  that  suggested  his 
father. 

"  It's  curious  how  you  can  love  so  many  people,"  she 
said  reflectively. 

At  first  the  Leveretts  thought  they  could  not  come 
to  the  party,  but  Uncle  Winthrop  insisted  strongly. 
Some  of  the  other  relatives  had  lost  members  from  their 
households.  All  the  gayety  would  be  reserved  for  the 
evening.  But  Gary  said  they  would  miss  Betty  very 
much. 

They  had  a  pleasant  afternoon,  and  Betty  was  finally 
prevailed  upon  to  stay  a  little  while  in  the  evening. 
Gary  was  congratulated  by  the  elder  relatives,  who  said 
many  pleasant  things  and  gave  him  good  wishes  as  to 
his  future  success.  One  of  the  cousins  proposed  his 
health,  and  Gary  replied  in  a  very  entertaining  manner. 
There  was  a  birthday  cake  that  he  had  to  cut  and  pass 
around. 

"  I  think  Gary  has  been  real  delightful,"  said  Betty. 


WINTER  AND    SORROW.  289 

"  I've  never  felt  intimately  acquainted  with  him,  because 
he  has  always  seemed  rather  distant,  and  went  with  the 
quality  and  all  that,  and  we  are  rather  plain  people.  Oh, 
how  proud  of  him  Uncle  Win  must  be!  " 

He  certainly  was  proud  of  his  gracious  attentions  to 
the  elders  and  his  pleasant  way  of  taking  the  rather  tire 
some  compliments  of  a  few  of  the  old  ladies  who  had 
known  his  Grandfather  Gary  as  well  as  his  Grandfather 
Adams. 

Aunt  Elizabeth  and  Aunt  Priscilla  sat  up  in  the  room 
of  Miss  Recompense  with  a  few  of  the  guests  who  wanted 
to  see  the  young  people  gather.  There  were  four  col 
ored  musicians,  and  they  began  to  tune  their  instruments 
out  on  the  rustic  settee  at  the  side  of  the  front  garden, 
where  the  beautiful  drooping  honey  locusts  hid  them 
from  sight  and  made  even  the  tuning  seem  enchanting. 
Girls  in  white  gowns  trooped  up  the  path,  young  men  in 
the  height  of  fashion  carried  fans  and  nosegays  for  them ; 
there  was  laughing  and  chattering  and  floating  back  and 
forth  to  the  dressing  rooms. 

Madam  Royall  came  with  Miss  Alice  and  Helen,  who 
was  allowed  to  go  out  occasionally  under  her  wing. 
Eudora  had  been  permitted  just  to  look  on  a  while  and 
to  return  with  grandmamma. 

The  large  parlor  was  cleared  of  the  small  and  dainty 
tables  and  articles  likely  to  be  in  the  way  of  the  dancers. 
The  first  was  to  be  a  new  march  to  a  patriotic  air,  and  the 
guests  stood  on  the  stairs  to  watch  them  come  out  of  the 
lower  door  of  the  long  room,  march  through  the  hall,  and 
enter  the  parlor  at  the  other  door.  Oh,  what  a  pretty 
crowd  they  were!  The  old  Continental  styles  had  not 
all  gone  out,  but  were  toned  down  a  little.  There  were 
pretty  embroidered  satin  petticoats  and  sheer  gowns  fall 
ing  away  at  the  sides,  with  a  train  one  had  to  tuck  up 
under  the  belt  when  one  really  danced.  Hair  of  all 


290        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

shades  done  high  on  the  head  with  a  comb  of  silver  or 
brilliants,  or  tortoise  shell  so  clear  that  you  could  see  the 
limpid  variations.  Pompadour  rolls,  short  curls,  dainty 
puffs,  many  of  the  dark  heads  powdered,  laces  and  frills 
and  ribbons,  and  dainty  feet  in  satin  slippers  and  silken 
hose. 

After  that  they  formed  quadrilles  in  the  parlor.  There 
was  space  for  three  and  one  in  the  hall.  Eudora  and 
Doris  patted  their  feet  on  the  stairs  in  unison,  and  clasp 
ing  each  other's  hands  smiled  and  moved  their  heads  in 
perfect  time. 

Aunt  Priscilla  admitted  that  it  was  a  beautiful  sight, 
but  she  had  her  doubts  about  it.  Betty  was  sorry  there 
was  such  a  sad  cause  for  her  not  being  among  them. 
Even  Gary  had  expressed  regrets  about  it. 

Then  the  Leveretts  and  Madam  Royall  went  home. 
A  few  of  the  elders  had  a  game  of  loo,  and  Mr.  Adams 
played  chess  with  Morris  Winslow,  whose  pretty  wife  still 
enjoyed  dancing,  though  he  was  growing  stout  and 
begged  to  be  excused  on  a  warm  night. 

They  played  forfeits  afterward  and  had  a  merry  time. 
Then  there  was  supper,  and  they  drank  toasts  and  made 
bright  speeches,  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  jesting  and 
gay  laughter,  and  much  wishing  of  success,  a  judgeship 
in  the  future,  a  mission  abroad  perhaps,  a  pretty  and  lov 
ing  wife,  a  happy  and  honorable  old  age. 

They  drank  the  health  of  Mr.  Winthrop  as  well,  and 
congratulated  him  on  his  promising  son.  He  was  very 
proud  and  happy  that  night,  and  planned  within  his  heart 
what  he  woulcl  do  for  his  boy. 

Doris  kept  begging  to  stay  up  a  little  longer.  The 
music  was  so  fascinating,  for  the  band  was  playing  soft 
strains  out  on  the  front  porch  while  the  guests  were  at 
supper.  She  sat  on  the  stairs  quite  enchanted  with  the 
gay  scene. 


THE   HIGH    RESOLVE   OF  YOUTH.         291 

The  guests  wandered  about  the  hall  and  parlor  and 
chatted  joyously.  Then  there  was  a  movement  toward 
breaking  up. 

Miss  Alice  espied  her. 

"  Oh,  you  midget,  are  you  up  here  at  midnight?  "  she 
cried.  "  Have  we  done  Gary  ample  honor  on  his  arrival 
at  man's  estate?  " 

"  You  were  all  so  beautiful !  "  said  Doris  breathlessly. 
"And  the  dancing  and  the  music.  It  was  splendid!  " 

Helen  kissed  her  good-night  with  girlish  effusion. 
Some  of  the  other  ladies  spoke  to  her,  and  Mrs.  Winslow 
said :  "  No  doubt  you  will  have  a  party  in  this  old  house. 
But  you  will  have  a  girl's  advantage.  You  need  not 
wait  until  you  are  twenty-one." 

When  the  last  good-nights  were  said,  and  the  lights 
put  out,  Gary  Adams  wondered  whether  he  would  have 
the  determination  to  avow  his  plans. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE    HIGH     RESOLVE     OF     YOUTH. 

\  A7AR  was  declared.  The  President,  James  Madison, 
*  *  proclaimed  it  June  18,  1812.  Hostilities  opened 
promptly.  True,  England's  navy  was  largely  engaged 
with  France  in  the  tremendous  effort  to  keep  Napoleon 
confined  within  the  boundaries  that  he  had  at  one  time 
assented  to  by  treaty,  but  at  that  period  she  had  over  a 
thousand  vessels  afloat,  while  America  had  only  seven 
teen  warships  in  her  navy  to  brave  them. 

There  was  a  call  for  men  and  money.  The  Indian 
troubles  had  been  fomented  largely  by  England.  There 
had  been  fighting  on  the  borders,  but  the  battle  of  Tippe- 
canoe  had  broken  the  power  of  Tecumseh — for  the  time, 
at  least.  But  now  the  hopes  of  the  Indian  chieftain  re- 


292        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

vived,  and  the  country  was  beset  by  both  land  and  naval 
warfare. 

The  town  had  been  all  along  opposed  to  war.  It  had 
been  said  of  Boston  a  few  years  before  that  she  was  like 
Tyre  of  old,  and  that  her  ships  whitened  every  sea.  Still, 
now  that  the  fiat  had  gone  forth,  the  latent  enthusiasm 
came  to  the  surface,  and  men  were  eager  to  enlist.  A 
company  had  been  studying  naval  tactics  at  Charlestown, 
and  most  of  them  offered  their  services,  filled  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  youth  and  brimming  with  indignation  at 
the  treatment  our  sailors  were  continually  receiving. 

Still,  the  little  navy  had  proudly  distinguished  itself 
in  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  Constitution  had  gained 
for  herself  the  sobriquet  of  "  Old  Ironsides  " — a  Boston- 
built  vessel,  though  the  live  oak,  the  red  cedar,  and  the 
pitch  pine  had  come  from  South  Carolina.  But  Paul 
Revere  had  furnished  the  copper  bolts  and  spikes,  and 
when  the  ship  was  recoppered,  later  on,  that  came  from 
the  same  place.  Ephraim  Thayer,  at  the  South  End,  had 
made  her  gun  carriages,  and  her  sails  were  manufactured 
in  the  Old  Granary  building. 

"  A  bunch  of  pine  boards  with  a  bit  of  striped  bunt 
ing  "  had  been  the  enemy's  disdainful  description  of  our 
youthful  navy.  And  now  they  were  to  try  their  prowess 
with  the  Mistress  of  the  Seas,  who  had  defeated  the  com 
bined  navies  of  Europe.  No  wonder  the  country  stood 
astounded  over  its  own  daring. 

Everything  afloat  was  hurriedly  equipped  as  a  war 
vessel.  The  solid,  far-sighted  men  of  New  York  and 
New  England  shook  their  heads  over  the  great  mistake 
Congress  and  the  President  had  made. 

Warren  Leverett  began  to  talk  about  enlisting.  Busi 
ness  had  been  running  behind.  True,  he  could  appeal  to 
his  brother-in-law  King.  He  had  sounded  Hollis,  who 
declared  he  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  afloat  himself. 


THE   HIGH    RESOLVE    OF   YOUTH.         293 

Mrs.  Leverett  besought  him  to  take  no  hasty  step. 
What  could  they  do  without  him?  -They  might  break 
up  the  home.  Electa  would  be  glad  to  have  Betty — 
there  were  some  things  she  could  do,  but  Aunt  Priscilla 
— whose  health  was  really  poor 

Aunt  Priscilla  understood  the  drift  presently,  and  the 
perplexity.  Warren  admitted  that  if  he  had  some  money 
to  tide  him  over  he  would  fight  through.  The  war 
couldn't  last  forever. 

"  And  you  never  thought  of  me!  "  declared  Aunt  Pris 
cilla,  pretending  to  be  quite  indignant.  "  See  here,  War 
ren  Leverett,  when  I  made  my  will  I  looked  out  for  you 
and  Betty.  Mary  Manning  shan't  hoard  up  any  of  my 
money,  and  'Lecty  King,  thank  the  Lord,  doesn't  want 
it.  So  if  you're  to  have  it  in  the  end  you  may  as  well 
take  some  of  it  now,  fursisee.  I  shall  have  enough  to 
last  my  time  out.  And  I'm  settled  and  comfortable 
here  and  don't  want  to  be  routed  out  and  set  down  else 
where." 

Warren  and  his  mother  were  surprised  and  overcome 
by  the  offer.  He  would  take  it  only  on  condition  that 
he  should  pay  Aunt  Priscilla  the  interest. 

But  his  business  stirred  up  wonderfully.  Still,  they 
all  felt  it  was  very  generous  in  Aunt  Priscilla,  whose 
money  had  really  been  her  idol. 

Doris  had  gone  over  from  her  music  lesson  one  after 
noon.  They  were  always  so  glad  to  see  her.  Aunt  Pris 
cilla  thought  a  piano  in  such  times  as  these  was  almost 
defying  Providence.  But  even  the  promise  of  that  did 
not  spoil  Doris,  and  they  were  always  glad  to  see  her 
drop  in  and  hear  her  dainty  bits  of  news. 

They  wanted  very  much  to  keep  her  to  supper. 

"  Why,  they  " — which  meant  the  family  at  home — 
"  will  be  sure  you  have  stayed  here  or  at  the  Royalls'. 
Mr.  Winslow  has  given  ever  so  much  money  toward  the 


294        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

fitting  out  of  a  vessel.  They  are  all  very  patriotic.  And 
Gary's  uncle,  Mr.  March,  has  gone  in  heart  and  hand.  I 
don't  know  which  is  right,"  said  Betty  with  a  sigh,  "  but 
now  that  we  are  in  it  I  hope  we  will  win." 

But  Doris  was  afraid  Miss  Recompense  would  feel 
anxious,  and  she  promised  to  come  in  a  few  days  and 
stay  to  supper. 

It  was  very  odd  that  just  as  she  reached  the  corner 
Cousin  Gary  should  cross  the  street  and  join  her. 

"  I  have  been  down  having  a  talk  with  Warren,"  he 
said  as  if  in  explanation.  "  I  wish  I  had  a  good,  plodding 
business  head  like  that,  and  Warren  isn't  lacking  in  the 
higher  qualities,  either.  If  there  was  money  enough  to 
keep  the  house  going,  he  would  enlist.  He  had  almost 
resolved  to  when  this  stir  in  business  came." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  his  mother  would  have  done! 
If  Uncle  Leverett  was  alive " 

"  He  would  have  consented  in  a  minute.  Someone's 
sons  must  go,"  Gary  said  decisively.  "  No,  don't  go 
straight  home — come  over  to  the  Common.  Doris,  you 
are  only  a  little  girl,  but  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  There  is 
no  one  else " 

Doris  glanced  at  him  in  amazement.  He  was  quite 
generally  grave,  though  he  sometimes  teased  her,  and 
occasionally  read  with  her  and  explained  any  difficult 
point.  But  she  always  felt  so  like  a  very  little  girl  with 
him. 

They  went  on  in  silence,  however,  until  they  crossed 
Common  Street  and  passed  on  under  the  magnificent 
elms.  Clumps  of  shrubbery  were  blooming.  Vines  ran 
riotously  over  supports,  and  roses  and  honeysuckle  made 
the  air  sweet. 

"  Doris," — his  voice  had  a  little  huskiness  in  it, — "  you 
are  very  fond  of  father,  and  he  loves  you  quite  as  if  you 


THE    HIGH   RESOLVE   OF   YOUTH.         295 

were  his  own  child.  Oh,  I  wish  you  were!  I  wish  he 
had  half  a  dozen  sons  and  daughters.  If  mother  had 
lived " 

"  Yes,"  Doris  said  at  length,  in  the  long  silence  broken 
only  by  the  song  and  whistle  of  myriad  birds. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you.  I  can't  soften  things, 
incidents,  or  explanations.  I  am  so  apt  to  go  straight  to 
the  point,  and  though  it  may  be  honorable,  it  is  not 
always  wisest  or  best.  But  I  can't  help  it  now.  I  have 
enlisted  in  the  navy.  We  start  for  Annapolis  this  even 
ing." 

"Oh,  Gary!    And  Uncle  Win " 

"  That  is  it.  That  gives  me  a  heartache,  I  must  con 
fess.  For,  you  see,  I  can't  go  and  tell  him  in  a  manly 
way,  as  I  would  like.  We  have  had  some  talks  over  it.  I 
asked  him  before  I  was  of  age,  and  he  refused  in  the  most 
decisive  manner  to  consider  it.  He  said  if  I  went  I 
would  have  to  choose  between  the  country  and  him, 
which  meant — a  separation  for  years,  maybe.  It  is 
strange,  too,  for  he  is  noble  and  just  and  patriotic  on  cer 
tain  lines.  I  do  think  he  would  spend  any  money  on  me, 
give  me  everything  I  could  possibly  want,  but  he  feels 
in  some  way  that  I  am  his  and  it  is  my  duty  to  do  with 
my  life  what  he  desires,  not  what  I  like.  I  am  talking 
over  your  head,  you  are  such  a  little  girl,  and  so  simple- 
hearted.  And  I  have  really  come  to  love  you  a  great 
deal,  Doris." 

She  looked  up  with  a  soft  smile,  but  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

"  You  see,  a  big  boy  who  has  no  sisters  doesn't  get 
used  to  little  girls.  And  when  he  really  begins  to  admire 
them  they  are  generally  older.  Then,  I  have  always  been 
with  boys  and  young  men.  I  was  glad  when  you  came, 
because  father  was  so  interested  in  you.  And  I  thought 


296        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

he  had  begun  to  love  you  so  much  that  he  wouldn't 
really  mind  if  I  went  away.  But,  you  see,  his  heart  would 
be  big  enough  for  a  houseful  of  children." 

"  Oh,  why  do  you  go?     He  will  be — broken-hearted." 

"  Little  Doris,  I  shall  be  broken-hearted  if  I  stay.  I 
shall  begin  to  hate  law — maybe  I  shall  take  to  drink — 
young  fellows  do  at  times.  I  know  I  shall  be  just  good 
for  nothing.  I  should  like  best  to  talk  it  over  dispas 
sionately  with  him,  but  that  can't  be  done.  We  should 
both  say  things  that  would  hurt  each  other  and  that  we 
should  regret  all  our  lives.  I  have  written  him  a  long 
letter,  but  I  wanted  to  tell  someone.  I  thought  of  Betty 
first,  and  Madam  Royall,  but  no  one  can  comfort  him 
like  you.  Then  I  wanted  you  to  feel,  Doris,  that  I  was 
not  an  ungrateful,  disobedient  son.  I  wish  we  could 
think  alike  about  the  war,  but  it  seems  that  we  cannot. 
And  because  you  are  here, — and,  Doris,  you  are  a  very 
sweet  little  girl,  and  you  will  love  him  always,  I  know, 
— I  give  him  in  your  charge.  I  hope  to  come  back,  but 
the  chances  of  war  are  of  a  fearful  sort,  and  if  I  should 
not,  will  you  keep  to  him  always,  Doris?  Will  you  be 
son  and  daughter  to  him  as  you  grow  up — oh,  Doris, 
don't  cry!  People  die  every  day,  you  know,  staying  at 
home.  I  have  often  thought  how  sad  it  was  that  my 
mother  and  both  your  parents  should  die  so  young " 

His  voice  broke  then.  They  came  to  a  rustic  seat  and 
sat  down.  He  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"  If  I  shouldn't  ever  come  back  " — tremulously — "  I 
should  like  to  feel  at  the  last  moment  there  was  some 
one  who  would  tell  him  that  my  very  latest  thought  was 
of  him  and  his  tender  love  all  my  twenty-one  years.  I 
want  you  to  make  him  feel  that  it  was  no  disrespect 
to  him,  but  love  for  my  country,  that  impelled  me  to  the 
step.  You  will  understand  it  better  when  you  grow 
older,  and  I  can  trust  you  to  do  me  full  justice  and  to  be 


THE   HIGH    RESOLVE    OF   YOUTH.         297 

tender  to  him.  And  at  first,  Doris,  when  I  can,  I  shall 
write  to  you.  If  he  doesn't  forbid  you,  I  want  you  to 
answer  if  I  can  get  letters.  This  is  a  sad,  sad  talk  for  a 
little  girl " 

Doris  tried  very  hard  not  to  sob.  She  seemed  to 
understand  intuitively  how  it  was,  and  that  to  make  any 
appeal  could  only  pain  him  without  persuading.  If  she 
were  as  wise  and  bright  as  Betty! 

"  That  is  all — or  if  I  said  any  more  it  would  be  a  repe 
tition,  and  it  is  awfully  hard  on  you.  But  you  will  love 
him  and  comfort  him." 

"  I  shall  love  him  and  stay  with  him  all  my  life,"  said 
Doris  with  tender  solemnity. 

They  were  both  too  young  to  understand  all  that  such 
a  promise  implied. 

"  My  dear  little  sister!  "  He  rose  and  stooping  over 
kissed  her  on  the  fair  forehead.  "  I  will  walk  back  to  the 
house  with  you,"  he  added  as  she  rose. 

Neither  of  them  said  a  word  until  they  reached  the  cor 
ner.  Then  he  took  both  hands  and,  kissing  her  again, 
turned  away,  feeling  that  he  could  not  even  utter  a 
good-by. 

Doris  stood  quite  still,  as  if  she  was  stunned.  She 
was  not  crying  in  any  positive  fashion,  but  the  tears 
dropped  silently.  She  could  not  go  indoors,  so  she  went 
down  to  the  big  apple  tree  that  had  a  seat  all  around  the 
trunk.  Was  Uncle  Win  at  home?  Then  she  heard 
voices.  Miss  Recompense  had  a  visitor,  and  she  was 
very  glad. 

The  lady,  an  old  friend,  stayed  to  supper.  Uncle  Win 
did  not  make  his  appearance.  Doris  took  a  book  after 
ward  and  sat  out  on  the  stoop,  but  reading  was  only  a 
pretense.  She  was  frightened  now  at  having  a  secret, 
and  it  seemed  such  a  solemn  thing  as  she  recalled  what 
she  had  promised.  She  would  like  to  spend  all  her  life 


298        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

with  Uncle  Win;  but  could  she  care  for  him  and  make 
him  happy,  when  the  one  great  love  of  his  life  was  gone? 

Miss  Recompense  walked  out  to  the  gate  with  her 
visitor,  and  they  had  a  great  many  last  bits  to  say,  and 
then  she  watched  her  going  down  the  street. 

"  Child,  you  can't  see  to  read,"  she  said  to  Doris.  "  I 
think  it  is  damp.  You  had  better  come  in.  Mr.  Adams 
will  not  be  home  before  ten." 

Doris  entered  the  lighted  hall  and  stood  a  moment 
uncertain. 

"  How  pale  and  heavy-eyed  you  look !  "  exclaimed 
Miss  Recompense.  "  Does  your  head  ache?  Have  they 
some  new  trouble  in  Sudbury  Street?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  But  I  am  tired.  I  think  I  will  go  to  bed. 
Good-night,  dear  Miss  Recompense,"  and  she  gave  her 
a  gentle  hug. 

She  cried  a  little  softly  to  her  pillow.  Had  Gary  gone? 
When  Uncle  Win  came  home  he  would  find  the  letter. 
She  dreaded  to-morrow. 

Gary  had  one  more  errand  before  he  started.  He  had 
said  good-by  to  them  at  Madam  Royall's  and  announced 
his  enlistment,  but  he  had  asked  Alice  to  meet  him  at  the 
foot  of  the  garden.  They  were  not  lovers,  though  he 
was  perhaps  quite  in  love.  And  he  knew  that  he  had 
only  to  speak  to  gain  his  father's  consent  and  have  his 
way  to  matrimony  made  easy,  since  it  was  Alice  Royall. 
But  he  had  never  been  quite  sure  that  she  cared  for  him 
with  her  whole  soul,  as  Isabel  had  cared  for  Morris  Win- 
slow.  And  if  he  won  her — would  he,  could  he  go 
away? 

He  used  to  wonder  later  on  how  much  was  pure  pa 
triotism  and  how  much  a  desire  to  stand  well  with  Alice 
Royall.  She  was  proudly  patriotic  and  had  stirred  his 
blood  many  a  time  with  her  wishes  and  desires  for  the 
country.  Grandmamma  Royall  had  laughed  a  little  at 


THE   HIGH   RESOLVE   OF  YOUTH.         299 

her  vehemence,  and  said  it  was  fortunate  she  was  not  a 
boy. 

"  I  should  enlist  at  once.  Or  what  would  be  better 
yet,  I  would  beg  brother  Morris  to  fit  out  a  war  ship,  and 
look  up  the  men  to  command  it,  and  go  in  any  capacity. 
I  should  not  wait  for  a  high-up  appointment." 

When  Gary  confessed  his  step  first  to  her,  she  caught 
his  hands  in  hers  so  soft  and  delicate. 

"  I  knew  you  were  the  stuff  out  of  which  heroes  were 
made!"  she  cried  exultantly.  "Oh,  Gary,  I  shall  pray 
for  you  day  and  night,  and  you  will  come  back  crowned 
with  honors." 

"  If  I  come  back " 

"  You  will.  Take  my  word  for  your  guerdon.  I 
can't  tell  you  how  I  know  it,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  re 
turn.  I  can  see  you  and  the  future " 

She  paused,  flushed  with  excitement,  her  eyes  intense, 
her  rosy  lips  tremulous,  and  looked,  indeed,  as  if  she 
might  be  inspired. 

So  she  met  him  again  at  the  garden  gate  for  a  last 
good-by.  Young  people  who  had  been  well  brought  up 
did  not  play  at  love-making  in  those  days,  though  they 
might  be  warm  friends.  A  girl  seldom  gave  or  received 
caresses  until  the  elders  had  signified  assent.  An  en 
gagement  was  quite  a  solemn  thing,  not  lightly  to  be 
entered  into.  And  even  to  himself  Gary  seemed  very 
young.  All  his  instincts  were  those  of  a  gentleman,  and 
in  his  father  he  had  had  an  example  of  the  most  punc 
tilious  honor. 

They  walked  up  and  down  a  few  moments.  He 
pressed  tender  kisses  on  her  fair  hand,  about  which  there 
always  seemed  to  cling  the  odor  of  roses.  And  then  he 
tore  himself  away  with  a  passionate  sorrow  that  his 
father,  the  nearest  in  human  ties  of  love,  could  not  bid 
him  Godspeed. 


300        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

The  next  morning  Doris  wondered  what  had  hap 
pened.  There  was  a  loneliness  in  the  very  air,  as  there 
had  been  when  Uncle  Leverett  died.  The  sky  was  over 
cast,  not  exactly  promising  a  storm,  but  soft  and  pene 
trative,  as  if  presaging  sorrow. 

Oh,  yes,  she  remembered  now.  She  dressed  herself 
and  went  quietly  downstairs. 

"  You  may  as  well  come  and  have  your  breakfast," 
exclaimed  Miss  Recompense.  "  Your  uncle  sent  down 
word  that  he  had  a  headache  and  begged  not  to  be  dis 
turbed.  He  was  up  a  long  while  after  he  came  home 
last  night;  it  must  have  been  past  midnight  when  he 
went  to  bed.  I  wish  he  did  not  get  so  deeply  interested 
in  improvements  and  everything.  And  if  we  are  to  be 
bombarded  and  destroyed  I  don't  see  any  sense  in  laying 
out  new  streets  and  filling  up  ponds  and  wasting  the 
money  of  the  town." 

It  seemed  to  Doris  as  if  she  could  not  swallow  a 
mouthful.  She  tried  heroically.  Then  she  went  out  and 
gathered  a  bunch  of  roses  for  Uncle  Win's  study.  She 
generally  read  French  and  Latin  a  while  with  him  in  the 
morning.  Then  she  made  her  bed,  dusted  her  room, 
put  her  books  in  her  satchel  and  went  to  school  in  an  un 
willing  sort  of  fashion.  How  long  the  morning  seemed ! 
Then  there  was  a  half-hour  in  deportment — we  should 
call  it  physical  culture  at  present.  All  the  girls  were  gay 
and  chatty.  Eudora  told  her  about  a  new  lace  stitch. 
Grandmamma  had  been  out  yesterday  where  there  was 
such  an  elegant  Spanish  woman  with  coal-black  eyes  and 
hair.  Her  family  had  fled  to  this  country  to  escape  the 
horrors  of  war.  They  had  been  rich,  but  were  now  quite 
poor,  and  she  was  thinking  of  having  a  needlework  class. 

Did  Eudora  know  Gary  had  gone  away? 

Uncle  Win  came  out  to  dinner.     She  was  a  little  late. 


THE   HIGH   RESOLVE   OF   YOUTH.         301 

He  glanced  up  and  gave  a  faint  half-smile,  but,  oh,  how 
deadly  pale  he  was! 

"  Dear  Uncle  Winthrop — is  your  headache  better?  " 
she  asked  with  gentle  solicitude. 

"  A  little,"  he  said  gravely. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  meal.  Although  Mr.  Winthrop 
Adams  had  a  delicate  appearance,  he  was  rarely  ill.  Now 
there  were  deep  rings  under  his  eyes,  and  the  utter  de 
pression  was  sad  indeed  to  behold. 

Doris  nearly  always  ran  in  the  study  and  gossiped 
girlishly  about  the  morning's  employments.  Now  she 
sauntered  out  on  the  porch.  There  was  neither  music 
nor  writing  class.  She  wondered  if  she  had  better  sew. 
She  was  learning  to  do  that  quite  nicely,  but  the  stock 
ing  still  remained  a  puzzle. 

"  Doris,"  said  a  gentle  voice  through  the  open  win 
dow;  and  the  sadness  pierced  her  heart. 

She  rose  and  went  in.  Solomon  lay  on  his  cushion  in 
the  corner,  and  even  he,  she  thought,  had  a  troubled  look 
in  his  eyes.  Uncle  Win  sat  by  the  table,  and  there  lay 
Gary's  letter. 

She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  pressed  her  soft 
warm  cheek  against  his,  so  cool  that  it  startled  her. 

"  My  dear  little  Doris,"  he  began.  "  I  am  childless. 
I  have  no  son.  Gary  has  gone  away,  against  my  wishes, 
in  the  face  of  my  prohibition.  I  do  not  suppose  he  will 
ever  return  alive.  And  so  I  have  given  him  up,  Doris  " 
— his  voice  failed  him.  He  had  meant  to  say,  "  You  are 
all  I  have." 

"  Uncle  Win — may  I  tell  you — I  saw  him  yesterday  in 
the  afternoon.  And  he  told  me  he  had  enlisted " 

"Oh,  then,  you  know!"  The  tone  somehow  grew 
harder. 

"  Dear  Uncle  Win,  I  think  he  could  not  help  going. 


302        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

He  was  very  brave.     And  he  was  sorry,  too.     His  eyes 

were  full  of  tears  while  he  was  talking.     And  he  asked 

» 
me 

"To  intercede  for  him?" 

"  No — to  stay  here  with  you  always.  He  said  I  was 
like  a  little  sister.  And  I  promised.  Uncle  Win,  if  you 
will  keep  me  I  will  be  your  little  girl  all  my  life  long. 
I  will  never  leave  you.  I  love  you  very  dearly.  For 
since  Uncle  Leverett  went  away  I  have  given  you  both 
loves." 

She  stood  there  in  silence  many  minutes.  Oh,  how 
comforting  was  the  clasp  of  the  soft  arms  about  his  neck, 
how  consoling  the  dear,  assuring  voice! 

"  Will  you  tell  me  about  it?  "  he  said  at  length. 

She  was  a  wise  little  thing,  though  I  think  her  chief 
wisdom  lay  in  her  desire  not  to  give  anyone  pain.  Some 
few  sentences  she  left  out,  others  she  softened. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  beseechingly,  "  you  will  not  be  angry 
with  him,  Uncle  Winthrop?  I  think  it  is  very  brave  and 
heroic  in  him.  It  is  like  some  of  the  old  soldiers  in  the 
Latin  stories.  I  shall  study  hard  now,  so  I  can  read 
about  them  all.  And  I  shall  pray  all  the  time  that  the 
war  will  come  to  an  end.  We  shall  be  so  proud  and  glad 
when  he  returns.  And  then  you  will  have  two  children 
again." 

"  Yes — we  will  hope  for  the  war  to  end  speedily.  It 
ought  never  to  have  begun.  What  can  we  do  against  an 
enemy  that  has  a  hundred  arms  ready  to  destroy  us? 
Little  Doris,  I  am  glad  to  have  you." 

Winthrop  Adams  was  not  a  man  to  talk  over  his  sor 
rows.  He  had  been  wounded  to  the  quick.  He  had  not 
dreamed  that  his  son  would  disregard  his  wishes.  His 
fatherly  pride  was  up  in  arms.  But  he  did  not  turn  his 
wounded  side  to  the  world.  He  quietly  admitted  that 
his  son  had  gone  to  Annapolis,  and  received  the  con- 


THE   HIGH   RESOLVE   OF   YOUTH.         303 

gratulations  of  friends  who  sincerely  believed  it  was  time 
to  strike. 

Salem  was  busy  at  her  wharves,  where  peaceable 
merchantmen  were  being  transformed  into  war  vessels. 
Charlestown  was  all  astir,  and  sailors  donned  the  uni 
form  proudly.  New  York  and  Baltimore  joined  in  the 
general  activity.  The  Constellation  was  fitting  out  at 
Norfolk.  The  Chesapeake,  the  United  States,  and  the 
President  were  to  be  made  famous  on  history's  page. 
Privateers  without  number  were  hurried  to  the  fore. 

The  Constitution  had  quite  a  reception  in  New  York, 
and  she  started  out  with  high  endeavors.  She  had  not 
gone  far,  however,  before  she  found  herself  followed  by 
three  British  frigates,  and  among  them  the  Guerriere, 
whose  captain  Commodore  Hull  had  met  in  New  York. 
To  be  captured  in  this  manner — for  fighting  against  such 
odds  would  be  of  no  avail — was  not  to  be  thought  of,  so 
there  was  nothing  but  a  race  before  him.  If  he  could 
reach  Boston  he  would  save  his  ship  and  his  men,  and 
somewhere  perhaps  gain  a  victory. 

Ah,  what  a  race  it  was!  The  men  put  forth  all  their 
strength,  all  their  ingenuity.  At  times  it  seemed  as  if 
capture  was  imminent.  By  night  and  by  day,  trying 
every  experiment,  working  until  they  dropped  from 
sheer  fatigue,  and  after  an  hour  or  two  of  rest  going  at  it 
again — Captain  Hull  kept  her  well  to  the  windward,  and 
with  various  maneuverings  puzzled  the  pursuers.  Then 
Providence  favored  them  with  a  fine,  driving  rain,  and 
she  flew  along  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  hardly  dar 
ing  to  hope,  but  at  dawn,  after  a  three  days'  race,  Boston 
was  in  sight,  and  her  enemies  were  left  behind. 

But  that  was  not  in  any  sense  a  complete  victory,  and 
she  started  out  again  to  face  her  enemy  and  conquer  if 
she  could,  for  her  captain  knew  the  British  ship  Guerriere 
was  lying  somewhere  in  wait  for  her.  Everybody  prayed 


304        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

and  hoped.  Firing  was  heard,  but  at  such  a  distance 
from  the  harbor  nothing  could  be  decided. 

The  frontier  losses  had  been  depressing  in  the  ex 
treme.  Boston  had  hung  her  flags  at  half-mast  for  the 
brave  dead.  But  suddenly  a  report  came  that  the  Con 
stitution  had  been  victorious,  and  that  the  Guerriere  after 
having  been  disabled  beyond  any  power  of  restoration, 
had  been  sent  to  a  watery  grave. 

In  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole  town  was  in  a 
transport  of  joy.  Flags  were  waving  everywhere,  and  a 
gayly  decorated  flotilla  went  out  in  the  harbor  to  greet 
the  brave  battle-scarred  veteran.  And  when  the  tale  of 
the  great  victory  ran  from  lip  to  lip  the  rejoicing  was  un 
bounded.  A  national  salute  was  fired,  which  was  re 
turned  from  the  ship.  The  streets  were  in  festive  array 
and  crowded  with  people  who  could  not  restrain  their 
wild  rejoicing.  The  Guerriere,  which  was  to  drive  the  in 
solent  striped  bunting  from  the  face  of  the  seas,  had  been 
swept  away  in  a  brief  hour  and  a  half,  and  the  bunting 
waved  above  her  grave.  That  night  the  story  was  told 
over  in  many  a  home.  The  loss  of  the  Constitution  had 
been  very  small  compared  to  that  of  the  Guerriere,  which 
Had  twenty-three  dead  and  fifty-six  wounded;  and  Cap 
tain  Dacres  headed  the  list  of  prisoners. 

There  was  a  grand  banquet  at  the  Exchange  Coffee 
House.  The  freedom  of  the  city  was  presented  to  Cap 
tain  Hull,  and  New  York  sent  him  a  handsome  sword. 
Congress  voted  him  a  gold  medal,  and  Philadelphia  a 
service  of  plate. 

At  one  blow  the  prestige  of  invincibility  claimed  for 
the  British  navy  was  shattered.  And  now  the  Constitu 
tion's  earlier  escape  from  the  hot  chase  of  the  three  British 
frigates  was  understood  to  be  a  great  race  for  the  nation's 
honor  and  welfare,  as  well  as  for  their  own  lives,  and  at 
last  the  baffled  pursuers,  out-sailed,  out-maneuvered, 


THE   HIGH   RESOLVE   OF   YOUTH.         305 

dropped  behind  with  no  story  of  success  to  tell,  and  were 
to  gnaw  their  hearts  in  bitterness  when  they  heard  of 
this  glorious  achievement. 

Uncle  Winthrop  took  Doris  and  Betty  out  in  the  car 
riage  that  they  might  see  the  great  rejoicing  from  all 
points.  Everywhere  one  heard  bits  of  the  splendid 
action  and  the  intrepidity  of  Captain  Hull  and  his  men. 

"  I  only  wish  Gary  had  been  in  it,"  said  Betty  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

Warren  told  them  that  when  Lieutenant  Read  came  on 
deck  with  Captain  Hull's  "  compliments,  and  wished  to 
know  if  they  had  struck  their  flag,"  Captain  Dacres  re 
plied: 

"  Well — I  don't  know.  Our  mizzenmast  is  gone,  our 
mainmast  is  gone,  and  I  think  you  may  say  on  the  whole 
that  we  have  struck  our  flag." 

One  of  the  points  that  pleased  Mr.  Adams  very  much 
was  the  official  report  of  Captain  Dacres,  who  "  wished 
to  acknowledge,  as  a  matter  of  courtesy,  that  the  conduct 
of  Captain  Hull  and  his  officers  to  our  men  had  been 
that  of  a  brave  enemy;  the  greatest  care  being  taken  to 
prevent  our  losing  the  smallest  trifle,  and  the  kindest 
attention  being  paid  to  the  wounded." 

More  than  one  officer  was  to  admit  the  same  fact  be 
fore  the  war  ended,  even  if  we  did  not  receive  the  like 
consideration  from  our  enemies. 

"  I  only  wish  Cary  had  been  on  the  Constitution,"  said 
Betty  eagerly.  "  I  should  be  proud  of  the  fact  to  my 
dying  day,  and  tell  it  over  to  my  grandchildren." 

A  tint  of  color  wavered  over  Uncle  Winthrop's  pale 
face.  No  one  mentioned  Cary,  out  of  a  sincere  regard 
for  his  father,  except  people  outside  who  did  not  know 
the  truth  of  his  sudden  departure;  though  many  of  his 
young  personal  friends  were  aware  of  his  interest  and  his 
study  on  the  subject. 


306        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Old  Boston  had  a  gala  time  surely.  The  flags  floated 
for  days,  and  everyone  wore  a  kind  of  triumphant  aspect. 
That  her  own  ship,  built  with  so  much  native  work  and 
equipments,  should  be  the  first  to  which  a  British  frigate 
should  strike  her  colors  was  indeed  a  triumph.  Though 
there  were  not  wanting  voices  across  the  sea  to  say  the 
Guerriere  should  have  gone  down  with  flying  colors,  but 
even  that  would  have  been  impossible. 

Miss  Recompense  and  Uncle  Winthrop  began  to  dis 
cuss  Revolutionary  times,  and  Doris  listened  with  a  great 
deal  of  interest.  She  delighted  to  identify  herself 
strongly  with  her  adopted  country,  and  in  her  secret 
heart  she  was  proud  of  Gary,  though  she  could  not  be 
quite  sure  he  was  right  in  the  step  he  had  taken.  They 
missed  him  so  much.  She  tried  in  many  ways  to  make 
up  the  loss,  and  her  devotion  went  to  her  uncle's  heart. 

If  they  could  only  hear!  Not  to  know  where  he  was 
seemed  so  hard  to  bear. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A    VISITOR    FOR    DORIS. 

P\ORIS  was  in  the  little  still-room,  as  it  was  called — a 
*-^  large  sort  of  pantry  shelved  on  one  side,  and  with 
numerous  drawers  and  a  kind  of  dresser  with  glass  doors 
on  another.  By  the  window  there  were  a  table  and  the 
dainty  little  still  where  Miss  Recompense  made  perfumes 
and  extracts.  There  were  boxes  of  sweet  herbs,  useful 
ones,  bottles  of  medicinal  cordials  and  salves.  Miss 
Recompense  Was  a  "  master  hand  "  at  such  things,  and 
the  neighbors  around  thought  her  as  good  as  a  doctor. 

It  was  so  fragrant  in  this  little  room  that  Doris  always 
had  a  vague  impression  of  a  beautiful  country.  She  had 
a  kind  of  poetical  temperament,  and  she  hoped  some  day 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  307 

to  be  able  to  write  verses.  Helen  Chapman  had  written 
a  pretty  song  for  a  friend's  birthday  and  had  it  set  to 
music.  The  quartette  sang  it  so  well  that  the  leading 
paper  had  praised  it.  There  was  no  one  she  could  con 
fess  her  secret  ambition  to,  but  if  she  ever  did  achieve 
anything  she  would  confide  in  Uncle  Winthrop.  So  she 
sat  here  with  all  manner  of  vague,  delightful  ideas  float 
ing  through  her  brain,  steeped  with  the  fragrance  of 
balms  and  odors. 

"  Please,  'm,"  and  Dinah  stood  in  the  door  in  all  the 
glory  of  her  gay  afternoon  turban,  which  seemed  to  make 
her  face  more  black  and  shining — "  Please,  'm,  dere's  a 
young  sojer  man  jus'  come.  He  got  a  bundle  an'  he 
say  he  got  strict  d'rections  to  gib  it  to  missy.  An'  here's 
de  ticket." 

"  Oh,  for  me !  "  Doris  took  it  eagerly  and  read  aloud, 
"  Lieutenant  E.  D.  Hawthorne."  "  Oh,  Miss  Recom 
pense,  it's  from  Gary,  I  know,"  and  for  a  moment  she 
looked  undecided. 

Miss  Recompense  had  on  her  morning  gown,  rather 
faded,  though  she  had  changed  it  for  dinner.  Her 
sleeves  were  pushed  above  the  elbow,  her  hands  were  a 
little  stained,  and  just  now  she  could  not  leave  her  con 
coction  without  great  injury  to  it,  though  it  was  evidently 
improper  for  a  child  like  Doris,  or  indeed  a  young  lady, 
to  see  a  strange  gentleman  alone.  And  Mr.  Adams  was 
out. 

Doris  cut  the  Gordian  knot  by  flashing  through  the 
kitchen  and  entering  the  lower  end  of  the  hall.  The 
young  man  stood  viewing  "  The  Destruction  of  the 
Spanish  Armada."  But  he  turned  at  the  sort  of  bird- 
like  flutter  and  glanced  at  the  vision  that  all  his  life  long 
he  thought  the  prettiest  sight  he  had  ever  beheld. 

She  had  on  a  simple  white  frock,  though  it  was  one  of 
her  best,  with  a  narrow  embroidered  ruffle  around  the 


308        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD  BOSTON. 

bottom  that  Madam  Royall  had  given  her.  When  it  was 
a  little  crumpled  she  put  it  on  for  afternoon  wear.  The 
neck  was  cut  a  small  square  with  a  bit  of  edging  around 
it,  gathered  with  a  pink  ribbon  tied  in  a  bow  in  front. 
She  still  wore  her  hair  in  ringlets ;  it  did  not  seem  to  grow 
very  fast,  but  she  had  been  promoted  to  a  pompadour, 
the  front  hair  being  brushed  up  over  a  cushion.  That 
left  innumerable  short  ends  to  curl  in  tiny  tendrils  about 
her  forehead.  Oddly  enough,  too,  she  had  on  a  pink 
apron  Betty  had  made  out  of  the  best  breadth  of  a  pink 
India  lawn  frock  she  had  worn  out.  It  had  pretty 
pockets  with  a  bow  of  the  same. 

"  Miss  Doris  Adams,"  exclaimed  the  young  lieutenant. 
"  I  should  have  known  you  in  a  minute,  although  you 

are "  He  paused  and  flushed,  for  Gary  had  said,  "She 

isn't  exactly  handsome,  but  very  sweet-looking  with 
pretty,  eager  eyes  and  fair  hair."  He  checked  himself 
suddenly,  understanding  the  impropriety  of  paying  her 
the  compliment  on  the  end  of  his  tongue,  but  he  thought 
her  an  enchanting  picture.  "  You  are  larger  than  I  sup 
posed.  Adams  always  said  '  My  little  cousin.'  " 

"  I  was  little  when  I  first  came.  And  I  have  grown 
ever  so  much  this  summer — since  Gary  went  away.  Oh, 
have  you  seen  him?  How  is  he?  Where  is  he?" 

Doris  had  a  soft  and  curiously  musical  voice,  the  sound 
that  lingered  with  a  sort  of  cadence.  Her  eyes  shone  in 
eager  expectation,  her  curved  red  lips  were  dewy  sweet. 

"  He  is  well.  He  has  sailed  on  the  United  States  as 
midshipman.  I  saw  him  at  Annapolis — indeed,  we  came 
quite  near  being  on  the  same  vessel.  He  is  a  fine  young 
fellow,  but  he  doesn't  look  a  day  over  eighteen.  And 
there  is  a  family  resemblance,"  but  he  thought  Doris 
would  make  a  much  handsomer  young  woman  than 
Gary  would  a  young  man.  "  And  I  have  a  small  packet 
for  you  that  I  was  to  deliver  to  no  one  else." 


A  VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  309 

He  held  it  out  to  her  with  a  smile.  It  was  sealed,  and 
was  also  secured  with  a  bit  of  cord,  which,  of  course, 
should  have  been  a  thread  of  silk,  but  we  saved  our  re 
finements  of  chivalry  for  other  purposes. 

"  He  is  going  to  make  a  fine,  earnest,  patriotic  sailor. 
You  will  never  hear  anything  about  him  that  you  need 
be  ashamed  of.  He  told  me  his  father  wasn't  quite  recon 
ciled  to  the  step,  but  after  this  splendid  victory  in  Boston 
harbor — to  strain  a  little  point,"  laughingly,  "  the  town 
may  well  be  proud  of  the  courageous  navy.  And  I  hope 
you  will  hear  good  news  of  him.  One  thing  you  may  be 
sure  of — he  will  never  show  the  white  feather." 

Oh,  how  her  eyes  glistened!  There  were  tears  in  them 
as  well. 

"  He  described  the  house  to  me,  and  the  town.  I 
have  never  been  in  Boston  before,  and  have  come  from 
Washington  on  important  business.  I  return  this  even 
ing.  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  see  him  again,  and  let 
ters  to  vessels  are  so  uncertain.  That  seems  the  hardest 
part  of  it  all.  But  he  may  happen  in  this  very  port  be 
fore  a  great  while.  One  never  knows.  Believe  that  I 
am  very  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  coming  myself, 
and  if  in  the  future  I  should  run  across  him  on  the  high 
seas  or  the  shore  even," — smiling  again, — "  I  shall  feel 
better  acquainted  and  more  than  ever  interested  in  him. 
There  is  one  great  favor  I  should  like  to  ask — could  you 
show  me  the  study?  Adams  talked  so  much  about  that 
and  his  father." 

"  It  is  here."  Doris  made  a  pretty  gesture  with  her 
hand,  and  he  walked  to  the  door,  glancing  around. 
There  was  the  high  backed  chair  by  the  table  with  its 
covering  of  Cordovan  leather,  and  he  could  imagine  the 
father  sitting  there. 

"  One  would  want  a  year  to  journey  around  these  four 
walls,"  he  said  with  a  soft  sigh.  "  A  library  like  this  is 


310        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

an  uncommon  sight.  And  you  study  here?  Adams  said 
you  had  been  such  a  comfort  and  pleasure  to  his  father. 
Oh,  what  a  magnificent  cat !  " 

"  Kitty  is  mine,"  said  Doris.  She  crossed  over  to  the 
window,  and  Solomon  rose  to  his  fullest  extent,  gave  a 
comfortable  stretch,  and  rubbed  the  cheek  of  his  young 
mistress,  then  arched  his  back,  studied  the  visitor  out  of 
sleepy  green  eyes  and  began  to  turn  around  him  three 
times  in  cat  fashion. 

They  both  laughed  at  that.  Did  Doris  know  what  a 
pretty  picture  she  made  of  herself  in  her  girlish  grace? 

"  Thank  you.  What  a  splendid  old  hall !  I  should 
like  to  spend  a  day  looking  round.  But  I  had  only  the 
briefest  while,  and  I  was  afraid  I  should  not  get  here. 
So  I  must  be  satisfied  with  my  glimpse.  I  shall  hope 
that  fate  will  send  me  this  way  again  when  I  have  more 
leisure.  May  I  pay  a  visit  here?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  returned  Doris  impulsively.  "  And  I  can 
never  tell  you  how  glad  I  am  for  this,"  touching  the  little 
packet  caressingly  to  her  cheek.  "  There  isn't  any  word 
with  enough  thanks  and  gratitude  in  it." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  earned  your  gratitude.  And  now 
I  must  say  farewell,  for  I  know  you  are  impatient  to  read 
your  letter." 

He  stepped  out  on  the  porch  and  bowed  with  a  kind  of 
courtly  grace.  Doris  realized  then  that  he  was  a  very 
handsome  young  man. 

"  Miss  Doris," — he  paused  halfway  down  the  steps, — 
"  I  wonder  if  I  might  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  for  yonder 
rose — the  last  on  its  parent  stem?  " 

Thomas  Moore  had  not  yet  immortalized  "  The  Last 
Rose  of  Summer  "  and  given  it  such  pathetic  possibilities. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said.  "  That  is  a  late-blooming  rose — 
indeed,  it  blooms  twice  in  the  season."  Only  this  morn 
ing  she  had  gathered  a  bowl  of  rose  leaves  for  Miss 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  311 

Recompense,  and  this  one  had  opened  since.  She  broke 
the  stem  and  handed  it  to  him.  "  It  is  a  very  little  gift 
for  all  you  have  brought  me,"  she  added  in  a  soft,  heart 
felt  tone. 

"  Thank  you.     I  shall  cherish  it  sacredly." 

Miss  Recompense  had  hurried  and  donned  a  gingham 
gown  and  a  fresh  cap.  She  had  come  just  in  time  to  see 
the  gift,  and  the  manner  in  which  the  young  man  received 
it  alarmed  her.  And  when  he  had  walked  down  to  the 
street  he  turned  and  bowed  and  made  a  farewell  gesture 
with  his  hand. 

Doris  had  nothing  to  cut  the  cord  around  the  packet, 
so  she  bit  it  with  her  pretty  teeth  and  tore  off  the  wrap 
per,  coming  up  the  steps.  Then  raising  her  eyes  she 
sprang  forward. 

"Oh,  dear  Miss  Recompense,  letters,  see!  A  letter 
from  Gary  all  to  myself,  and  one  for  Uncle  Win!  I'll 
just  put  that  on  his  table  to  be  a  joyful  surprise.  And 
may  I  come  and  read  mine  to  you?  He  was  in  such  a 
hurry,  though  really  I  did  not  ask  him  to  stay.  Was 
that  impolite?" 

"  No — under  the  circumstances."  She  cleared  her 
throat  a  little,  but  the  lecture  on  propriety  would  not 
materialize. 

"  '  Dear  little  Doris.'  Think  of  that— wouldn't  Gary 
be  surprised  to  see  how  much  I  have  grown!  May  I  sit 
here?" 

Miss  Recompense  was  about  to  decant  some  of  her 
preparations.  Doris  took  the  high  stool  and  read 
eagerly,  though  now  and  then  a  little  break  came  in  her 
voice.  The  journey  to  Annapolis  with  half  a  dozen  col 
lege  chums  bent  on  the  same  errand,  the  being  mus 
tered  into  the  country's  service  and  assigned  to  positions, 
meeting  famous  people  and  hearing  some  thrilling  news, 
and  at  last  the  order  for  sailing,  were  vivid  as  a  picture. 


312        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

She  was  to  let  Madam  Royall  and  the  household  read  all 
this,  and  he  sent  respectful  regard  to  them  all,  and  real 
love  to  all  the  Leveretts.  There  had  been  moments 
when  he  was  wild  to  see  them  again,  but  after  all  he  was 
prouder  than  ever  to  be  of  service  to  his  country,  who 
needed  her  bravest  sons  as  much  now  as  in  her  seven 
years'  struggle. 

There  was  a  loose  page  beginning  "  For  your  eyes 
alone,  Doris,"  and  she  laid  it  by,  for  she  felt  even  now 
that  she  wanted  to  cry  over  her  brave  cousin.  Then  he 
spoke  of  Lieutenant  Hawthorne,  who  had  been  instru 
mental  in  getting  him  his  appointment,  and  who  had 
undertaken  to  see  that  this  would  reach  her  safely.  And 
so  many  farewells,  as  if  he  could  hardly  say  the  very  last 
one. 

Miss  Recompense  wiped  her  eyes  and  stepped  about 
softly,  as  if  her  whole  body  was  pervaded  with  a  new 
tenderness.  She  made  little  comments  to  restore  the 
equilibrium,  so  that  neither  would  give  way  to  undue 
emotion. 

"  Miss  Recompense,  do  you  think  I  might  run  up  to 
Aunt  Elizabeth's  with  my  letter?  They  will  all  want  to 
hear." 

"  Why — I  see  no  objections,  child.  And  then  if  you 
wanted  to  go  to  Madam  Royall's — but  I  think  they  will 
keep  you  to  tea  at  Sudbury  Street.  Let  Betty  or  War 
ren  walk  home  with  you.  Take  off  your  apron." 

Doris  read  half  a  dozen  lines  of  her  own  personal  letter 
and  laid  it  in  the  bottom  of  her  workbox,  that  had  come 
from  India,  and  had  a  subtle  fragrance.  She  did  not 
want  to  cry  in  real  earnest,  as  she  felt  she  should,  with 
all  these  references  to  Uncle  Win.  She  tied  on  her  hat 
and  said  "  Good-afternoon,"  and  really  did  run  part  of  the 
way. 

They  were  just  overflowing  with  joy  to  hear,  only 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  313 

Betty  said,  "  What  a  shame  Gary  had  to  go  before  the 
glorious  news  of  the  Constitution!  There  was  a  chance 
of  two  days  after  he  had  written  his  letter,  so  he  might 
have  heard."  Postage  was  high  at  that  time  and  mails 
uncertain,  so  letters  and  important  matters  were  often 
trusted  to  private  hands.  Then  Lieutenant  Hawthorne 
had  not  gone  to  Boston  as  soon  as  he  expected. 

Betty  had  some  news  too.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  King  were 
going  to  Washington,  perhaps  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
winter. 

As  they  walked  home  Betty  rehearsed  her  perplexities 
to  Doris.  It  was  odd  how  many  matters  were  confided 
to  this  girl  of  thirteen,  but  she  seemed  so  wise  and  sen 
sible  and  sympathetic. 

"  If  it  wasn't  quite  such  hard  times,  and  if  Warren 
could  marry  and  bring  Mercy  home!  She's  an  excellent 
housekeeper,  just  the  wife  for  a  struggling  young  man, 
mother  admits.  But  whether  she  would  like  it,  and 
whether  Aunt  Priscilla  would  feel  comfortable,  are  the 
great  questions.  She's  been  so  good  to  Warren.  Mary 
badgered  him  dreadfully  about  her  part.  If  Mary  was  a 
little  more  like  Electa!  " 

Warren  had  been  keeping  company  with  Mercy  Oil 
man  for  the  last  year.  She  was  a  bright,  cheerful,  indus 
trious  girl,  well  brought  up,  and  the  engagement  was 
acceptable  to  both  families.  Young  people  paid  more 
deference  to  their  elders  then.  Warren  felt  that  he 
could  not  go  away  from  home,  and  surely  there  was  room 
enough  if  they  could  all  agree. 

"  It's  odd  how  many  splendid  things  come  to  Electa, 
though  it  may  be  because  she  is  always  willing  to  take 
advantage  of  them.  They  have  rented  their  house  in 
New  York  and  are  to  take  some  rooms  in  Washington. 
Bessy  and  Leverett  are  to  be  put  in  school,  and  she  takes 
the  two  little  ones.  Their  meals  are  to  be  sent  in  from 


314        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

a  cook  shop.  Of  course  she  can't  be  very  gay,  being  in 
mourning.  Everybody  says  Mrs.  Madison  is  so  charm- 
ing." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  go,"  sighed  Doris. 

"  And  Mary  is  always  wondering  why  I  do  not  come 
and  stay  with  her,  and  sew  and  help  along.  Oh,  Doris, 
what  if  I  should  be  the  old  maid  aunt  and  go  visiting 
round!  For  there  hasn't  a  soul  asked  me  to  keep  com 
pany  yet,"  and  Betty  laughed.  But  she  was  not  very 
anxious  on  the  subject. 

They  reached  the  corner  and  kissed  each  other  good 
night.  Miss  Recompense  sat  on  the  stoop  with  a  little 
shawl  about  her  shoulders.  She  drew  Doris  down  beside 
her  and  inquired  about  her  visit. 

While  there  was  much  that  was  stern  and  hard  and 
reticent  in  the  Puritan  character,  there  was  also  an  innate 
delicacy  concerning  the  inward  life.  They  made  few 
appeals  to  each  other's  sympathies.  Perhaps  this  very 
reserve  gave  them  strength  to  endure  trials  heroically 
and  not  burden  others. 

Miss  Recompense  had  judged  wisely  that  Mr.  Adams 
would  prefer  to  receive  his  missive  alone.  His  first  re 
mark  had  been  the  usual  question : 

"Where  is  Doris?" 

"  Oh,  we  have  had  quite  an  adventure — a  call  from  a 
young  naval  officer.  Here  is  his  card.  He  brought 
letters  to  you  and  Doris,  and  she  was  eager  to  take  hers 
over  to  Betty.  She  will  stay  to  supper." 

He  scrutinized  the  card  while  his  breath  came  in 
strangling  gasps,  but  he  preserved  his  composure  out 
wardly. 

"  Did  you — did  he "  pausing  confusedly. 

"  I  did  not  see  him,"  returned  Miss  Recompense 
quietly.  "  I  was  not  in  company  trim,  and  he  asked  for 
Doris.  I  dare  say  he  thought  her  a  young  lady." 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  315 

"  Is  he  staying  in  Boston?  "  fingering  the  card  irreso 
lutely. 

"  He  was  to  return  to  Washington  at  once.  He  had 
come  on  some  urgent  business." 

Mr.  Adams  went  through  to  his  study.  He  looked  at 
the  address  some  moments  before  he  broke  the  seal,  but 
he  found  the  first  lines  reassuring. 

"Will  you  have  supper  now?"  asked  Miss  Recom 
pense  from  the  doorway. 

"  If  convenient,  yes."  He  laid  down  his  letter  and 
came  out  in  the  hall.  "  Doris  told  you  all  her  news,  I 
suppose?" 

"  She  read  me  her  letter.  Gary  seems  to  be  in  good 
spirits  and  position.  He  spoke  very  highly  of  Lieutenant 
Hawthorne." 

"  The  accounts  seem  very  satisfactory." 

Then  they  went  out  to  the  quiet  supper.  A  meal  was 
not  the  same  without  Doris. 

All  the  evening  he  had  remained  in  his  room,  reading 
his  son's  letter  more  than  once  and  lapsing  into  deep 
thought  over  it.  He  heard  the  greetings  now,  and  came 
out,  inquiring  after  the  folks  in  Sudbury  Street,  sitting 
down  on  the  step  and  listening  with  evident  pleasure  to 
Doris'  eager  chat.  It  was  bedtime  when  they  dispersed. 

"  Uncle  Win,"  Doris  said  the  next  morning,  "  there  is 
a  page  in  my  letter  I  would  like  you  to  read.  And  do 
you  think  I  might  go  home  with  Eudora  and  take  dinner 
at  Madam  Royall's?  Gary  sent  them  some  messages." 

"  Yes,  child,"  he  made  answer. 

They  were  indeed  very  glad,  but  like  Betty  they  could 
not  help  wishing  he  had  been  on  the  famous  Constitution. 
Alice  was  particularly  interested,  and  said  she  should 
watch  the  career  of  the  United  States. 

After  that  the  ice  seemed  broken  and  no  one  hesitated 
to  mention  Gary.  But  Mr.  Winthrop  said  to  Doris: 


316        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  My  dear  child,  will  you  give  me  this  leaf  of  your 
letter.  I  know  Gary  did  not  mean  it  for  my  eyes,  but  it 
is  very  precious  to  me.  Doris,  how  comes  it  that  you 
find  the  way  to  everybody's  heart?  " 

"And  you  will  forgive  him,  Uncle  Win?  He  was  so 
brave "  Her  voice  trembled. 

"  I  have  forgiven  him,  Doris.  If  I  should  never  see 
him  again, — you  are  young  and  most  likely  will, — assure 
him  there  never  was  a  moment  that  I  ceased  to  love  him. 
Perhaps  I  have  not  taken  as  much  pains  to  understand 
him  as  I  might  have.  I  suppose  different  influences  act 
upon  the  new  generation.  If  we  should  both  live  to 
welcome  him  back " 

"  Oh,  we  must,  Uncle  Win." 

"  If  he  has  you "     Oh,  what  was  he  saying? 

"  You  will  both  have  me.     I  shall  stay  here  always." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

The  other  alternative,  that  Gary  might  not  return,  they 
banished  resolutely.  But  it  drew  them  nearer  together 
in  unspoken  sympathy. 

Everybody  noted  how  thin  and  frail-looking  Mr. 
Adams  had  grown.  Doris  became  his  constant  com 
panion.  She  had  a  well-trained  horse  now,  and  they 
rode  a  good  deal.  Or  they  walked  down  Washington 
street,  where  there  were  some  pretty  shops,  and  met 
promenaders.  They  sauntered  about  Cornhill,  where 
Uncle  Win  picked  up  now  and  then  an  odd  book,  and 
they  discovered  strange  things  that  had  belonged  to  the 
Old  Boston  of  a  hundred  years  agone.  There  was  quite 
an  art  gallery  in  Cornhill  kept  by  Dogget  &  Williams — 
the  nucleus  of  great  things  to  come.  It  was  quite  the 
fashion  for  young  ladies  to  drop  in  and  exercise  their 
powers  of  budding  criticism  or  love  of  art.  Now  and 
then  someone  lent  a  portrait  of  Smibert's  or  Copley's,  or 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  317 

you  found  some  fine  German  or  English  engravings. 
An  elder  person  generally  accompanied  the  younger 
people.  The  law  students,  released  from  their  labors,  or 
the  young  society  men,  would  walk  home  beside  the 
chaperone,  but  talk  to  the  maidens. 

Then  Uncle  Winthrop  committed  a  piece  of  great 
extravagance,  everybody  said — especially  in  such  times 
as  these,  when  the  British  might  take  and  destroy  Bos 
ton.  This  was  buying  a  pianoforte.  Madam  Royall  ap 
proved,  for  Doris  was  learning  to  play  very  nicely.  An 
old  German  musician,  Gottlieb  Graupner,  who  was  quite 
a  visitor  at  the  Royall  house,  had  imported  it  for  a  friend 
who  had  been  nearly  ruined  by  war  troubles  and  was 
compelled  to  part  with  it.  Mr.  Graupner  and  a  knot  of 
musical  friends  used  to  meet  Saturday  evenings  in  old 
Pond  Street,  and  with  a  few  instruments  made  a  sort  of 
orchestra.  As  a  very  great  favor,  friends  were  occa 
sionally  invited  in. 

There  was  a  new  organist  at  Trinity  Church,  a  Mr. 
Jackson,  who  was  trying  to  bring  in  the  higher  class 
cathedral  music.  The  choir  of  Park  Street  Church,  some 
fifty  in  number,  was  considered  one  of  the  great  successes 
of  the  day,  and  people  flocked  to  hear  it.  Puritan 
music  had  been  rather  doleful  and  depressing. 

There  was  quite  a  discussion  as  to  where  the  piano 
should  stand.  They  had  very  little  call  to  use  the  parlor 
in  winter.  Uncle  Winthrop's  friends  generally  visited 
him  in  the  study.  The  spacious  hall  was  the  ordinary 
living-room,  and  Doris  begged  that  it  might  be  kept 
here — for  the  winter,  at  least. 

Oh,  what  a  cheerful  sound  the  music  made  in  the  old 
house!  Uncle  Win  would  bring  out  a  book  of  poems, 
often  Milton's  "  L' Allegro  "  and  half  read,  half  listen,  to 
the  entrancing  combination.  Dinah  declared  "  It  was 


3i8        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

like  de  w'ice  ob  de  Angel  Gabriel  hisself."  Miss  Recom 
pense  enjoyed  the  grand  old  hymns  that  brought  back 
her  childhood. 

Solomon  at  first  made  a  vigorous  protest.  He  seemed 
jealous  of  the  pretty  fingers  gliding  over  the  keys,  and 
would  spring  up  to  cover  them  or  rest  on  her  arms.  But 
when  he  found  he  was  banished  to  the  kitchen  every 
evening,  he  began  to  consider  and  presently  gave  in. 
He  would  sit  beside  Uncle  Win  in  dignified  protest,  look 
ing  very  "  dour,"  as  a  Scotchman  would  say. 

And  then  the  country  was  electrified  with  the  news  of 
another  great  victory.  Off  the  Canary  Islands,  Captain 
Decatur,  with  the  frigate  United  States,  met  the  Mace 
donian,  one  of  the  finest  of  the  British  fleet.  The  fight 
had  been  at  close  quarters  with  terrific  broadsides.  After 
an  hour  and  a  half,  with  her  fighting  force  disabled,  the 
Macedonian  struck  her  colors.  Her  loss  in  men  killed  and 
wounded  was  over  one  hundred,  and  the  United  States 
lost  five  killed  and  seven  wounded. 

The  American  vessel  brought  her  prize  and  prisoners 
into  port  amid  general  acclaim.  The  Macedonian  was  re 
paired  and  added  to  the  fast-increasing  navy,  that  was 
rapidly  winning  a  world-wide  reputation.  And  when 
she  came  up  to  New  York  early  in  January  with  "  The 
compliments  of  the  season,"  there  was  great  rejoicing. 
Samuel  Woodworth,  printer  and  poet,  wrote  the  song  of 
the  occasion,  and  Calvert,  another  poet,  celebrated  the 
event  in  an  ode. 

Captain  Garden  was  severely  censured  by  his  own 
government,  as  Captain  Dacres  had  been,  for  not  going 
down  with  flying  colors  instead  of  allowing  his  flag  to 
be  captured  and  his  ship  turned  to  the  enemy's  advan 
tage.  Instead  of  jeering  at  the  navy  of  "  pine  boards  and 
striped  bunting,"  it  was  claimed  the  American  vessels 
were  of  superior  size  and  armament  and  met  the  British 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  319 

at  unfair  advantage,  and  that  they  were  largely  manned 
by  English  sailors. 

There  was  an  enthusiastic  note  from  Gary.  He  was 
well,  and  it  had  been  a  glorious  action.  Captain  Garden 
had  been  a  brave  gentleman,  and  he  said  regretfully, 
"  Oh,  why  do  we  have  to  fight  these  heroic  men!  " 

But  Betty  had  the  letter  of  triumph  this  time.  Mrs. 
King  was  a  delightful  correspondent,  though  she  was 
always  imploring  Betty  to  join  her. 

There  had  been  a  ball  and  reception  given  to  several 
naval  officers  who  were  soon  to  go  away.  The  Presi 
dent,  engaged  with  some  weighty  affairs,  had  not  come  in 
yet,  but  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  no 
end  of  military  and  naval  men,  in  gold  lace  and  epaulettes 
and  gleaming  swords,  were  present,  and  beautiful, 
enthusiastic  women  in  shimmering  silks  and  laces.  One 
did  not  have  to  get  a  new  gown  for  every  occasion  in 
those  days. 

There  was  a  little  lull  in  the  dancing.  Mrs.  Madison, 
who  was  charmingly  affable,  was  seated  with  a  group  of 
men  about  her,  when  there  was  a  stir  in  the  hall,  and  a 
sudden  thrill  of  expectancy  quivered  through  the  apart 
ment.  Ensign  Hamilton,  son  of  the  Secretary,  and  sev 
eral  midshipmen  entered,  and  the  young  man  went 
straight  to  his  father  with  the  captured  flag  of  the  Mace 
donian.  Such  a  cheer  as  rent  the  air!  Ladies  wiped  their 
eyes  and  then  waved  their  handkerchiefs  in  the  wild  burst 
of  joy.  They  held  the  flag  over  the  heads  of  the  chief 
officer  while  the  band  played  "  Hail,  Columbia!  "  Then 
it  was  laid  at  the  feet  of  Mrs.  Madison,  who  accepted  it  in 
the  name  of  the  country  with  a  charming  and  graceful 
speech.  Afterward  it  was  festooned  on  the  wall  with  the 
flag  of  the  Guerriere. 

"  So,  you  see,  Gary  has  been  the  hero  of  a  great  vic 
tory,"  said  Betty  enthusiastically;  "  but  we  all  wish  it  had 


320        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

been  '  off  Boston  Light '  instead  of  on  the  distant  ocean. 
And  it  is  a  shame  not  to  be  in  Washington.  Electa  seems 
to  be  going  everywhere  and  seeing  everything,  '  in  spite 
of  her  being  the  mother  of  four  children/  as  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla  says.  And  the  ladies  dress  so  beautifully.  We 
shall  come  to  be  known  as  '  plain  Boston '  presently." 

There  was  no  Worth  or  Pingat  to  charge  enormous 
prices.  Patterns  were  passed  around.  Ladies  went 
visiting  and  took  their  sleeves  along  to  make,  or  their 
ruffles  to  plait,  and  altered  over  their  brocades  and  pad- 
uasoys  and  crapes,  and  some  darned  Brussels  "  footing  " 
until  it  was  transformed  into  really  handsome  lace. 
They  could  clean  their  feathers  and  ribbons,  and  one 
wonders  how  they  found  time  for  so  many  things.  They 
were  very  good  letter  writers  too.  Dolly  Madison  and 
Mrs.  Adams  are  fresh  and  interesting  to-day. 

But  Boston  could  rejoice,  nevertheless.  To  the  little 
girl  Gary  was  invested  with  the  attributes  of  a  hero.  He 
even  looked  different  to  her  enchanted  eyes. 

Uncle  Win  used  to  smile  with  grave  softness  when  she 
chattered  about  him.  At  first  it  had  given  him  a  heart 
ache  to  hear  Gary's  name  mentioned,  but  now  it  was  like 
a  strain  of  comforting  music.  Only  he  wondered  how 
he  ever  would  have  lived  without  the  little  girl  from  Old 
Boston. 

She  used  to  play  and  sing  "Hail,  Columbia!" — for 
people  were  patriotic  then.  But  the  sweetest  of  all  were 
the  old-fashioned  ones  that  his  wife  had  sung  as  a  young 
girl,  daintily  tender  love  songs.  Sometimes  he  tried 
them  with  her,  but  his  voice  sounded  to  himself  like  a 
pale  ghost  out  of  the  past,  yet  it  still  had  a  mournful 
sweetness. 

But  with  the  rejoicing  we  had  many  sorrows.  Our 
northern  frontier  warfare  had  been  full  of  defeats;  1813 
opened  with  various  misfortunes.  Ports  were  blockaded, 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  321 

business  dropped  lower  and  lower.  Still  social  life  went 
on,  and  in  a  tentative  way  intellectual  life  was  making 
some  progress. 

The  drama  was  not  neglected  either.  The  old  Bos 
ton  Theater  gave  several  stirring  representations  that 
to-day  would  be  called  quite  realistic.  One  was  the 
capture  of  the  Guerriere  with  officers,  sailors  and  marines, 
and  songs  that  aroused  drooping  patriotism.  Perhaps 
the  young  people  of  that  time  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  their 
grandchildren  did  "  H.  M.  S.  Pinafore." 

Doris  liked  the  rare  musical  entertainments.  People 
grew  quite  used  to  seeing  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  with  the 
pretty,  bright,  growing  girl,  who  might  have  been  his 
daughter.  It  was  a  delight  to  her  when  anyone  made  the 
mistake.  Occasionally  an  old  gentleman  remembered 
her  grandfather,  and  the  little  boy  Charles  who  went  to 
England. 

Then  in  the  early  summer  Mrs.  King  came  on  for  a 
visit,  and  brought  her  eldest  child  Bessy,  a  bright,  well- 
trained  little  girl. 

There  had  been  a  good  deal  of  trouble  at  the  Man 
nings',  and  grandmother  had  gone  back  and  forth,  mak 
ing  it  very  confining  for  Betty.  Crops  had  proved  poor 
in  the  autumn;  the  children  had  the  measles  and  Mrs. 
Manning  a  run  of  fever.  Elizabeth  had  taken  a  cold  in 
the  early  fall  and  had  a  troublesome  cough  all  winter. 
Mrs.  Leverett  wanted  to  bring  her  home  for  a  rest,  but 
Mrs.  Manning  could  not  spare  her,  with  all  the  summer 
work,  and  the  warm  weather  would  set  her  up,  she  was 
quite  sure. 

The  country  was  drawing  a  brief  breath  of  relief. 
There  had  been  the  magnificent  victories  on  the  Lakes 
and  some  on  the  land,  and  now  and  then  came  cheering 
news  of  naval  successes.  Everybody  was  in  better 
spirits.  Mrs.  King  seemed  to  bring  a  waft  of  hope  from 


322        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

the  Capital  itself,  and  the  Leverett  house  was  quite  en 
livened  with  callers.  Invitations  came  in  for  dinners  and 
suppers  and  evening  parties.  Madam  Royall  quite 
claimed  her  on  the  strength  of  the  Adams  relation,  and 
also  Doris,  who  was  such  a  favorite.  Doris  and  little 
Bessy  fraternized  at  once,  and  practiced  a  duet  for  the 
entertainment  of  Uncle  Winthrop,  who  praised  them 
warmly. 

She  planned  to  take  Betty  back  to  New  York  with  her. 

"But  I  can't  go,"  declared  Betty.  "Warren  must 
not  be  taxed  any  more  heavily,  so  there  would  be  no  hope 
of  having  help,  and  mother  cannot  be  left  alone." 

"  Is  there  any  objection  to  Mercy  coming?  Why 
doesn't  Warren  marry?  That  would  relieve  you  all.  I 
suppose  it  is  best  for  young  people  to  have  a  home  by 
tfiemselves,  but  if  it  isn't  possible — and  I'd  like  to  know 
how  we  are  going  to  get  along  in  heaven  if  we  can't  agree 
with  each  other  here  on  earth !  "  Mrs.  King  inquired. 

"  That  sounds  like  father,"  said  Betty  laughingly,  yet 
the  tears  came  to  her  eyes.  "  Poor  father!  He  did  not 
suppose  we  would  have  such  hard  times.  If  the  war 
would  only  end.  You  see," — after  a  pause, — "  we  are 
not  quite  sure  of  Aunt  Priscilla.  She's  changed  and 
softened  wonderfully,  and  she  and  mother  get  along  so 
well.  She  insisted  upon  paying  a  generous  board,  and 
she  was  good  to  Warren." 

"  I  must  talk  it  over  with  mother.  There  is  no  need 
of  having  your  life  spoiled,  Betty." 

For  Betty  was  a  very  well-looking  girl,  arch  and  viva 
cious,  and  her  harvest  time  of  youth  must  not  be  wasted. 
Mrs.  King  was  really  glad  she  had  no  entanglement. 

Mrs.  Leverett  had  no  objections  to  a  speedy  marriage 
if  Mercy  could  be  content.  Warren  had  thought  if  he 
could  be  prosperous  he  would  like  to  buy  out  Betty's 
share  if  she  married.  "  And  my  share  will  be  mine  as 


A   VISITOR   FOR   DORIS.  323 

long  as  I  live,"  added  the  mother.  "  But  Warren  is  fond 
of  the  old  house,  and  Hollis  has  a  home  of  his  own.  You 
girls  will  never  want  it." 

Warren  was  delighted  with  what  he  called  "  Lecty's 
spunk."  For  Aunt  Priscilla  agreed  quite  readily.  It 
was  dull  for  Betty  with  two  old  people.  Mercy  would 
have  her  husband. 

So  the  wedding  day  was  appointed.  Mercy  had  been  a 
year  getting  ready.  Girls  began  soon  after  they  were 
engaged.  Mrs.  Oilman  was  rather  afraid  the  thing 
wouldn't  work,  but  she  was  sure  Mercy  was  good  tem 
pered,  and  she  had  been  a  good  daughter. 

They  made  quite  a  "  turning  round."  Mrs.  Leverett 
went  upstairs  to  Betty's  room,  which  adjoined  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla's,  and  she  gave  some  of  her  furniture  for  the  adorn 
ment  of  the  bridal  chamber. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  wedding  with  a  few  friends  and  a 
supper.  At  nine  o'clock  the  new  wife  went  to  Sudbury 
Street.  Mrs.  Gilman  had  some  rather  strict  ideas,  and 
declared  it  was  no  time  for  frolicking  when  war  was  at 
our  very  door,  and  no  one  knew  what  might  happen, 
and  hundreds  of  families  were  in  pinching  want. 

Mercy  was  up  the  next  morning  betimes  and  assisted 
her  new  mother  with  the  breakfast.  Warren  went  down 
to  his  shop.  But  they  had  quite  an  elaborate  tea  drink 
ing  at  the  Leveretts',  and  some  songs  and  games  in  the 
evening.  Mercy  did  enjoy  the  wider  life. 

Mrs.  Manning  had  come  in  for  the  wedding  and  a  few 
days'  stay,  though  she  didn't  see  how  she  could  be  spared 
just  now,  and  things  would  get  dreadfully  behindhand. 
Mrs.  King  was  to  go  home  with  her  and  make  a  little 
visit.  Bessy  thought  she  would  rather  stay  with  Doris, 
and  she  was  captivated  with  the  Royall  House  and  Eu- 
dora.  The  children  never  seemed  in  the  way  of  the 
grown  people  there,  and  if  elderly  men  talked  politics 


324        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

and  city  improvements, — quite  visionary,  some  thought 
them, — the  young  people  with  Alice  and  Helen  had  the 
garden  walks  and  the  wide  porch,  and  discussed  the  en 
joyments  of  the  time  with  the  zest  of  enthusiastic  inex 
perience  but  keen  delight. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

ELIZABETH    AND PEACE. 

JVARS.  KING  brought  back  Elizabeth  Manning,  a  pale, 
*•  *  slim  ghost  of  a  girl,  tall  for  her  age — indeed,  really 
grown  up,  her  mother  said.  Of  the  three  girls  Bessy 
King  had  the  most  indications  of  the  traditional  country 
girl.  A  fine  clear  skin,  pink  cheeks  and  a  plump  figure, 
and  an  inexhausible  flow  of  spirits,  ready  for  any  fun  or 
frolic. 

Doris  was  always  well,  but  she  had  the  Adams  com 
plexion,  which  was  rather  pale,  with  color  when  she  was 
warm,  or  enthusiastic  or  indignant.  The  pink  came  and 
went  like  a  swift  summer  cloud. 

"  I  do  declare,"  exclaimed  Aunt  Priscilla,  "  if  'Lecty 
King  doesn't  beat  all  about  getting  what  she  wants,  and 
making  other  people  believe  they  want  it,  too!  War,ren 
might  as  well  have  been  married  in  the  winter,  and  Mercy 
would  have  been  company  for  Betty.  She  never  liked  to 
run  out  and  leave  me  alone.  Mercy  seems  a  nice,  promis 
ing  body,  and  Warren  might  as  well  be  happy  and  settled 
as  not.  And  'Lecty's  been  to  Washington  and  dined 
with  the  President  and  Mrs.  Madison,  and  I'll  venture  to 
say  there  was  something  the  President's  wife  consulted 
her  about.  And  all  the  big  captains  and  generals,  and 
what  not!  And  here's  the  quality  of  Boston  running 
after  her  and  asking  her  out  just  as  if  we  had  nothing  to 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  325 

feed  her  on  at  home.  She  don't  do  anything,  fursisee, 
but  just  look  smiling  and  talk.  But  my  opinion  is  that 
Elizabeth  Manning  hasn't  a  very  long  journey  to  the 
graveyard.  I  don't  see  what  Mary's  been  thinking 
about." 

Mrs.  King  took  her  niece  to  Dr.  Jackson,  one  of  the 
best  medical  authorities  of  that  day,  and  he  looked  the 
young  girl  over  with  his  keen  eyes. 

"  If  you  want  the  real  truth,"  said  the  doctor,  "  she  has 
had  too  much  east  wind  and  too  much  hard  work.  The 
children  of  this  generation  are  not  going  to  stand  what 
their  mothers  did.  A  bad  cold  or  two  next  winter  will 
finish  her,  but  with  care  and  no  undue  exposure  she  may 
live  several  years.  But  she  will  never  reach  the  three 
score  and  ten  that  every  human  being  has  a  right  to." 

Uncle  Winthrop  sent  the  carriage  around  every  day  to 
the  Leveretts'.  They  had  given  up  theirs  before  Mr. 
Leverett's  death.  He  and  Doris  took  their  morning 
horseback  rides  and  scoured  the  beautiful  country  places 
for  miles  around,  until  Doris  knew  every  magnificent 
tree  or  unusual  shrub  or  queer  old  house  and  its  history. 
These  hours  were  a  great  delight  to  him. 

Elizabeth  had  often  gone  down  to  Salem  town,  but  her 
time  was  so  brief  and  there  was  so  much  to  do  that  she 
"  couldn't  bother."  And  she  wondered  how  Doris  knew 
about  the  shops  in  Essex  Street  and  Federal  Street  and 
Miss  Rust's  pretty  millinery  show,  and  Mr.  John  Innes' 
delicate  French  rolls  and  braided  bread,  and  Molly  Saun- 
ders'  gingerbread  that  the  school  children  devoured,  and 
the  old  Forrester  House  with  its  legends  and  fine  old 
pictures  and  the  lovely  gardens,  the  wharves  with  their 
idle  fleets  that  dared  not  put  out  to  sea  for  fear  of  being 
swallowed  up  by  the  enemy. 

Uncle  Winthrop  had  taken  her  several  times  when 
some  business  had  called  him  thither.  But,  truth  to  tell, 


326        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

she  had  never  cared  to  repeat  her  visit  to  Mrs.  Man 
ning's. 

The  piano  was  like  a  bit  of  heaven,  Elizabeth  thought, 
the  first  time  she  came  over  to  visit  Doris. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  long  sigh,  pressing  her  hand 
on  her  heart,  for  the  deep  breaths  always  hurt  her,  "  if  I 
was  only  prepared  to  go  to  heaven  I  shouldn't  want  to 
stay  here  a  day  longer.  When  they  sing  about  '  eternal 
rest '  it  seems  such  a  lovely  thing,  and  to  '  lay  your  bur 
dens  down.'  But  then  there's  '  the  terrors  of  the  law,' 
and  the  '  judgments  to  come,'  and  the  great  searching  of 
the  hearts  and  reins — do  you  know  just  what  the  reins 
are?" 

No,  Doris  didn't.  Heaven  had  always  seemed  a 
lovely  place  to  her  and  God  like  a  father,  only  grander 
and  tenderer  than  any  human  father  could  be. 

Then  they  talked  about  praying,  and  it  came  out  that 
Doris  said  her  mother's  prayers  still  in  French  and  her 
father's  in  English. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  horrified,  "I  shouldn't 
dare  to  pray  to  God  in  French — it  would  seem  like  a 
mockery.  And  *  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep '  is  just  a 
baby  prayer,  and  really  isn't  pouring  out  your  own  soul 
to  God." 

Doris  asked  Uncle  Winthrop  about  it. 

"  My  child,"  he  said  with  grave  sweetness,  "  you  can 
never  say  any  better  prayers  of  your  own.  The  Saviour 
himself  gave  us  the  comprehensive  Lord's  Prayer.  And 
are  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  who  cannot  pray  in  Eng 
lish  offering  God  vain  petitions?  You  will  find  as  you 
grow  older  that  no  earnest  soul  ever  worships  God  in 
vain,  and  that  religion  is  a  life-long  work.  I  am  learning 
something  new  about  it  every  day.  And  I  think  God 
means  us  to  be  happy  here  on  earth.  He  doesn't  save  all 
the  joys  for  heaven.  He  has  given  me  one,"  and  he 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  327 

stooped  and  kissed  Doris  on  the  forehead.  "  Poor  Eliza 
beth,"  he  added — "  make  her  as  happy  as  you  can!  " 

When  Mrs.  King  proposed  to  take  Betty  to  New  York 
for  the  whole  of  the  coming  winter  there  was  consterna 
tion,  but  no  one  could  find  a  valid  objection.  It  was  a 
somewhat  expensive  journey,  and  winter  was  a  very  en 
joyable  season  in  the  city.  Then  another  year  some 
thing  new  might  happen  to  prevent — there  was  no  time 
like  the  present. 

No  one  had  the  courage  to  object,  though  they  did  not 
know  how  to  spare  her.  Aunt  Priscilla  sighed  and 
brought  out  some  beautiful  long-laid-away  articles  that 
Electa  declared  would  make  over  admirably. 

"Where  do  you  suppose  Aunt  Priscilla  picked  up  all 
these  elegant  things?"  asked  Electa.  "  I  never  remem 
ber  seeing  her  wear  them,  though  she  always  dressed 
well,  but  severely  plain.  And  Uncle  Perkins  was  quite 
strict  about  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  the  world." 

And  so  Aunt  Priscilla  put  away  the  last  of  her  idols 
and  the  life  she  had  coveted  and  never  had.  But  perhaps 
the  best  of  all  was  her  consideration  for  others,  the  cer 
tainty  that  it  was  quite  as  well  to  begin  some  of  the  vir 
tues  of  the  heavenly  world  here  on  earth  that  they  might 
not  seem  strange  to  one. 

Mrs.  Manning  sent  in  for  Elizabeth. 

"  Well — you  do  seem  like  a  different  girl,"  her  father 
declared,  looking  her  over  from  head  to  foot.  "  You've 
had  a  good  rest  now,  and  you'll  have  to  turn  in  strong 
and  hearty,  for  Sarah's  gone,  and  Ruth  isn't  big  enough 
to  take  hold  of  everything.  So  hunt  up  your  things 
while  I'm  doing  some  trading." 

Elizabeth  only  had  time  for  the  very  briefest  fare 
wells.  Mrs.  King  sent  a  little  note  containing  the  doc 
tor's  verdict,  but  Mrs.  Manning  was  indignant  rather 
than  alarmed. 


328        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

It  was  lonesome  when  they  were  all  gone.  Eudora 
Chapman  went  to  a  "  finishing  school  "  this  autumn,  and 
Doris  accompanied  her — poor  Doris,  who  had  not  mas 
tered  fractions,  and  whose  written  arithmetic  could  not 
compare  with  Betty's.  She  had  achieved  a  pair  of  stock 
ings  after  infinite  labor  and  trouble.  They  did  look 
rowy,  being  knit  tighter  and  looser.  But  Aunt  Priscilla 
gave  her  a  pair  of  fine  merino  that  she  had  kept  from  the 
ravages  of  the  moths.  Miss  Recompense  declared  that 
she  had  no  one  else  to  knit  for. 

There  were  expert  knitters  who  made  beautiful  silk 
stockings,  and  Uncle  Winthrop  said  buying  helped  along 
trade,  so  why  should  Doris  worry  when  there  were  so 
many  more  important  matters? 

The  little  girl  and  her  uncle  kept  track  of  what  was 
going  on  in  the  great  world.  Napoleon  the  invincible 
had  been  driven  back  from  Russia  by  cold  and  famine, 
forced  to  yield  by  the  great  coalition  and  losing  step  by 
step  until  he  was  compelled  to  accept  banishment.  Then 
England  redoubled  her  efforts,  prepared  to  carry  on  the 
war  with  us  vigorously.  Towns  on  the  Chesapeake 
were  plundered  and  burned,  and  General  Ross  entered 
Washington,  from  which  Congress  and  the  President's 
family  had  fled  for  their  lives.  America  was  again  hor 
ror  stricken,  but  gathering  all  her  energies  she  made  such 
a  vigorous  defense  as  to  convince  her  antagonist  that 
though  cast  down  she  could  never  be  wholly  defeated. 

But  this  attack  gave  us  the  inspiration  of  one  of  our 
finest  deathless  songs.  A  Mr.  Francis  S.  Key,  a  resident 
of  Georgetown,  had  gone  down  from  Baltimore  with  a 
flag  of  truce  to  procure  the  release  of  a  friend  held  as 
prisoner  of  war,  when  the  bombardment  of  Fort 
McHenry  began.  All  day  long  he  watched  the  flag  as  it 
floated  above  the  ramparts.  Night  came  on  and  it  was 
still  there.  And  at  midnight  he  could  see  it  only  by  "  the 


ELIZABETH    AND— PEACE.  329 

rockets'  red  glare,"  while  he  and  his  friends  tremulously 
inquired  if  the  "  flag  still  waved  o'er  the  Land  of  the 
Free."  Oh,  what  joy  must  have  been  his  when  it 
"  caught  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam."  He 
had  put  the  night  watch  and  the  dawn  in  a  song  that  is 
still  an  inspiration. 

And  now  convinced,  the  enemy  withdrew.  There 
were  talks  of  peace,  though  we  did  not  abate  our  ener 
gies.  And  the  indications  of  a  settlement  brought  about 
another  wedding  at  the  Royall  house. 

Miss  Alice  had  been  a  great  favorite  with  the  young 
men,  and  her  ardent  patriotism  had  inspired  more  than 
one,  as  it  had  Gary  Adams,  with  a  desire  to  rush  to  his 
country's  defense.  There  were  admirers  too,  but  most 
of  them  had  been  kept  at  an  intangible  distance.  At  last 
she  had  yielded  to  the  eloquence  of  young  Oliver  Sar 
gent,  who  was  in  every  way  acceptable.  Grandmother 
Royall  expected  to  give  her  an  elegant  wedding  along  in 
the  winter. 

The  Government  was  to  send  out  another  commis 
sioner  to  consult  with  those  already  at  Ghent,  and  Mr. 
Sargent  had  been  offered  the  post  of  private  secretary. 
He  was  to  sail  from  New  York,  but  he  obtained  leave  to 
spend  a  few  days  in  Boston  to  attend  to  some  affairs. 
He  went  at  once  to  Madam  Royall  and  laid  his  plans  be 
fore  her.  He  wanted  to  marry  Alice  and  take  her  with 
him,  as  he  might  be  gone  a  long  while.  Alice  was  noth 
ing  loath,  for  the  journey  abroad  was  extremely  tempting. 

But  what  could  one  do  in  such  a  few  days?  And 
wedding  clothes 

"  Save  the  wedding  gear  until  we  come  back,"  said  the 
impatient  young  lover.  "  Alice  can  get  clothes  enough 
abroad." 

It  was  quite  a  new  departure  in  a  wedding.  Invita 
tions  were  always  sent  out  by  hand,  even  for  small  even- 


330        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

ing  parties,  and  often  verbally  given.  A  private  marriage 
would  not  have  suited  old  Madam  Royall.  So  the  house 
was  crowded  at  eleven  in  the  morning,  and  the  bride 
came  through  the  wide  hall  in  a  mulberry-colored  satin 
gown  and  pelisse  that  had  been  made  two  weeks  before 
for  ordinary  autumn  wear.  But  her  bonnet  was  white 
with  long  streamers,  and  her  gloves  were  white,  and  she 
made  a  very  attractive  bride,  while  young  Sargent  was 
manly  and  looked  proud  enough  for  a  king.  At  twelve 
they  went  away  with  no  end  of  good  wishes,  and  an  old 
slipper  was  thrown  after  the  carriage. 

Mrs.  Morris  Winslow  had  two  babies,  and  was  already 
growing  stout.  But  the  departure  of  Alice  made  a  great 
break. 

"  But  it  is  the  way  of  the  world  and  the  way  of  God 
that  young  people  should  marry,"  said  Madam  Royall. 
"  I  was  very  happy  myself." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Doris  eagerly  that  evening,  her  eyes 
aglow  and  her  cheeks  pink  with  excitement — "  oh,  Uncle 
Win,  do  you  think  there  will  be  peace?  " 

"  My  little  girl,  it  is  my  prayer  day  and  night." 

"  And  then  Gary  will  come  home." 

It  had  been  a  long  while  since  they  had  heard.  Gary 
had  been  transferred  from  the  United  States,  that  had 
lain  blockaded  in  a  harbor  many  weary  weeks.  But 
where  he  was  now  no  one  could  tell. 

People  began  to  take  heart  though  the  righting  had 
not  ceased.  And  it  was  odd  that  a  dozen  years  before 
everybody  had  looked  askance  at  dancing,  and  now  no 
one  hesitated  to  give  a  dancing  party.  The  contra-dance 
and  cotillions  were  all  the  rage.  Sometimes  there  was 
great  amusement  when  it  was  a  draw  dance,  for  then  you 
had  to  accept  your  partner  whether  or  no. 

Whole  families  went,  grandmothers  and  grandchil 
dren.  There  were  cards  and  conversation  circles  for 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  331 

those  who  did  not  care  to  join  the  mazy  whirls.  And  the 
suppers  were  quite  elegant,  with  brilliant  lamps  and 
flowers,  plate  and  glass  that  had  come  through  genera 
tions.  Fruits  and  melons  were  preserved  as  long  as  pos 
sible,  and  a  Turkish  band  in  fine  Oriental  costume 
was  often  a  feature  of  the  entertainment. 

Doris  had  charming  letters  from  Betty,  a  little  stilted 
we  should  call  them  now,  but  very  interesting.  Mr. 
King  was  confident  of  peace.  Doris  used  to  read  them 
to  Aunt  Priscilla,  who  said  Betty  was  very  frivolous,  but 
that  she  always  had  a  good  time,  and  perhaps  good  times 
were  not  as  wicked  as  people  used  to  think. 

Mrs.  Leverett  went  to  Salem  in  November.  Her 
namesake  had  taken  a  cold  and  had  some  fever,  and  she 
asked  for  grandmother  continually.  Mercy  did  finely  at 
housekeeping,  and  so  the  weeks  ran  along,  the  invalid 
being  better,  then  worse,  and  just  before  Christmas  the 
frail  little  life  floated  out  to  the  Land  of  Rest. 

"Oh,  poor  little  Elizabeth!"  cried  Doris.  "If  she 
could  have  been  real  happy!  But  there  never  seemed 
any  time.  Uncle  Win,  they  are  not  so  poor  that  they 
have  to  work  so  hard,  are  they?  " 

"  No,  dear.  Mr.  Manning  has  money  out  at  interest, 
besides  his  handsome  farm.  But  a  great  many  people 
think  there  is  solid  virtue  in  working  and  saving.  I  sup 
pose  it  makes  them  happy." 

Doris  was  puzzled.  She  said  the  same  thing  to  Aunt 
Priscilla,  who  took  off  her  glasses,  rubbed  them  with  a 
bit  of  old  silk  and  wiped  the  tears  out  of  her  eyes. 

"  I  think  we  haven't  had  quite  the  right  end  of  it,"  she 
began  after  a  pause.  "  I  was  brought  up  that  way.  But 
then  people  had  to  spin  and  weave  for  themselves,  and 
help  the  men  with  the  out-of-doors  work.  The  children 
dropped  corn,  and  potatoes,  and  there  was  always  weed 
ing.  There  was  so  much  spring  work  and  fall  work,  and 


332        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

folks  couldn't  be  comfortable  if  they  saw  a  child  playing 
'  cat's  cradle.'  They  did  think  Satan  was  going  about 
continually  to  catch  up  idle  hands.  Well  maybe  if  I'd 
had  children  I'd  'a'  done  the  same  way." 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't,  Aunt  Priscilla,  I  know,"  said  Doris 
with  the  sweetest  faith  shining  in  her  eyes.  "  Elizabeth 
thought  you  such  a  comfortable  old  lady.  She  said  you 
never  worried  at  anyone." 

"  That  is  because  I  have  come  to  believe  the  worrying 
wrong.  The  Lord  didn't  worry  at  people.  He  told 
them  what  to  do  and  then  he  let  them  alone.  And  Fos 
ter  Leverett  was  about  the  best  man  I  ever  knew.  He 
didn't  even  worry  when  times  were  so  bad.  Everybody 
said  his  children  would  be  spoiled.  They  were  out  sled 
ding  and  sliding  and  skating,  and  playing  tag  in  summer. 
They've  made  nice  men  and  women." 

"  Oh,  I  remember  how  friendly  he  looked  that  day  he 
came  on  the  vessel.  And  how  he  said  to  Captain  Grier, 
'  Is  there  a  little  girl  for  me  that  has  come  from  Old 
Boston? '  He  might  have  said  something  else,  you 
know.  '  A  little  girl  for  me '  was  such  a  sweet  welcome, 
I  have  never  forgotten  it." 

"  Yes — I  was  here  the  night  you  came.  We  had  been 
waiting.  And  the  red  cloak  and  big  bonnet  with  the 
great  bow  under  your  chin,  and  a  silk  frock " 

"  Did  I  look  very  queer?  "     Doris  laughed  softly. 

"  You  looked  like  a  picture,  though  that  wan't  my  idea 
of  what  children  should  be." 

"  Miss  Recompense  has  them  put  away  to  keep.  I 
outgrew  them,  you  know.  What  would  you  have  done 
with  me?  " 

Aunt  Priscilla's  pale  face  wrinkled  up  and  then 
smoothed  out. 

"  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  the  Lord  knows  his  busi 
ness  best  and  is  capable  of  attending  to  it.  When  we 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  333 

meddle  we  make  a  rather  poor  fist  of  it.  Betty  has  a  lot 
of  morning-glories  out  there,"  nodding  her  head,  "  and  I 
said  to  her  '  They're  poor  frail  things :  why  not  put  out  a 
hop  vine  or  red  beans?  They  can't  stand  a  bit  of  sun, 
like  Jonah's  gourd.'  But  she  only  laughed — her  father 
had  that  way  when  he  didn't  want  to  argue.  When  they 
came  to  bloom  they  were  sights  to  behold,  like  the  early 
morning  when  the  sun  is  rising,  and  you  see  such  beauti 
ful  colors.  They  used  to  nod  to  each  other  and  swing 
back  and  forth,  like  people  coming  to  call,  then  they 
said  good-by  and  were  off.  The  Lord  meant  'em  just  to 
look  pretty  and  they  did." 

"  Uncle  Win  likes  them  so  much.  Miss  Recompense 
had  a  whole  lattice  full  of  them.  Oh,  did  you  mean  I  was 
like  a  morning  glory?  Haven't  I  some  other  uses?  " 

"  You're  always  fresh  and  blossoming  every  day. 
That's  a  use.  You  come  in  with  a  little  greeting  that 
warms  one's  heart.  You  were  a  great  delight  to  Uncle 
Leverett,  and  I  don't  know  what  Uncle  Winthrop  would 
have  done  without  you,  Gary  being  away.  And  how 
Solomon  took  to  you,  when  he  was  awful  shy  of  stran 
gers  !  He  must  have  liked  you  uncommon  to  be  willing 
to  stay  in  a  strange  place,  for  cats  cannot  bear  to  be 
moved  about.  Maybe  'twould  been  the  same  if  you  had 
not  been  so  pretty  to  look  at,  but  the  Lord  made  you  the 
way  he  wanted  you,  and  you  haven't  spoiled  yourself  a 
bit." 

Doris  blushed.  Compliments  were  quite  a  new  thing 
with  Aunt  Priscilla. 

"What  would  you  have  done  with  me?"  Doris  asked 
again,  after  a  long  pause. 

"  You  won't  like  to  hear  it.  I  ought  to  confess  it  be 
cause  it  was  a  sin,  a  sort  of  meddling  with  the  Lord's 
plans.  You  see,  I'd  taken  it  in  my  head  that  someone 
would  have  to  give  you  a  home.  It  didn't  seem  as  if 


334        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

that  old  ma'shland  would  be  good  for  anything,  and  I 
knew  your  father  wasn't  rich.  Winthrop  Adams  was 
one  of  the  finicky  kind  and  quite  put  about  to  know 
what  to  do  with  you.  So  I  thought  if  there  didn't  any 
place  open,  for  Elizabeth  Leverett  was  quite  wrapped  up 
in  her  grandchildren,  that  " — hesitatingly — "  when  things 
were  straightened  out  a  bit,  I'd  offer " 


That  would  have  been  good  of  you- 


"  No,  it  wasn't  goodness,"  interrupted  Aunt  Priscilla. 
"  I  thought  I  should  want  someone,  with  Polly  getting 
old.  I'd  have  expected  you  to  work,  though  I'd  have 
done  the  fair  thing  by  you,  and  left  you  some  money  in 
the  end.  I  was  a  little  jealous  when  everybody  took  to 
you  so.  I  was  sure  you'd  be  spoiled.  And,  though 
you've  got  that  music  thing  and  go  among  the  quality, 
and  are  pretty  as  a  pink,  and  Winthrop  Adams  thinks 
you  a  nonesuch,  you  come  in  here  in  plain  everyday 
fashion  and  talk  and  read  and  make  it  sunshiny  for  every 
body.  So,  you  see,  the  Lord  knew,  and  it  is  just  as  if  he 
said,  '  Priscilla  Perkins,  your  way  doesn't  suit  at  all. 
There's  something  in  the  world  besides  work  and  saving 
money.  There's  room  enough  in  the  world  for  a  hill  of 
potatoes  and  a  morning-glory  made  of  silk  and  dew  if  it 
doesn't  bloom  but  just  one  morning.  It's  a  smile,  and 
there  are  others  to  follow,  and  it  is  a  thousand  times 
better  than  frowns.' " 

"  And  if  there  had  been  no  money,  and  I  had  wanted  a 
Home,  would  you  have  given  me  one?  "  she  asked  in  a 
soft,  tremulous  tone. 

"  Yes,  child.  And  I  couldn't  have  worked  you  quite 
like  poor  little  Elizabeth  was  worked.  I  didn't  think 
there  was  so  much  money,  or  that  that  lady  in  England 
would  have  left  you  a  legacy  or  that  Winthrop  Adams 
would  come  to  believing  that  he  couldn't  live  without 
you." 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  335 

"  Then  you  were  kind  to  have  a  plan  about  it,  and  I 
am  glad  to  know  it." 

She  had  been  sitting  on  Aunt  Priscilla's  footstool,  but 
she  rose  and  twined  her  arms  about  the  shrunken  neck, 
and  kissed  the  wrinkled  forehead.  She  saw  a  homeless 
little  girl  going  to  sheltering  care,  with  a  kindly  remem 
brance  at  the  last.  Someone  else  might  have  thought  of 
the  exactions. 

"  You  make  the  thing  look  better  than  it  was,"  Aunt 
Priscilla  cried  with  true  humility.  "  But  the  Lord  put 
you  in  the  right  place." 

She  saw  the  mean  and  selfish  desire,  the  wish  to  get 
rid  of  a  faithful  old  woman  who  might  prove  a  burden. 
It  was  a  sin  like  the  finery  she  had  longed  for  and  bought 
and  laid  away.  She  had  not  worn  the  finery,  she  had 
not  sent  away  the  poor  black  soul,  she  had  not  been 
a  hard  taskmistress  to  the  child,  but  early  training 
had  added  the  weight  of  possible  sins  to  the  actual 
ones. 

Christmas  morning  Doris  was  surprised  by  a  lovely 
gift.  In  a  small  box  by  her  plate,  with  best  wishes  from 
Uncle  Winthrop,  lay  a  watch  and  chain,  a  dainty  thing 
with  just  "  Doris  "  on  the  plain  space  in  the  center  that 
overlay  another  name  that  had  once  been  there.  It  had 
undergone  some  renovation  at  the  jeweler's  hands,  after 
lying  untouched  more  than  twenty  years.  Winthrop 
Adams  had  kept  it  for  a  possible  granddaughter,  but  he 
knew  now  no  one  could  cherish  it  more  tenderly  than 
Doris. 

January,  1815,  came  in.  People  counted  the  days. 
But  it  was  not  until  the  middle  of  February  that  Boston 
town  was  one  morning  electrified  by  the  ringing  of  bells 
and  the  shouts  of  men  and  boys,  who  ran  along  the 
streets  crying  "  Peace!  Peace!  Peace!"  Windows  were 
raised ;  people  ran  out,  so  eager  were  they.  Of  all  glori- 


336        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

ous  words  ever  uttered  none  fell  with  such  music  on  the 
air.  Could  it  be  true? 

Uncle  Winthrop  put  on  his  surtout  with  the  great  fur 
collar.  Then  he  looked  at  Doris. 

"  Wrap  yourself  up  and  come  along,"  he  said  huskily. 

Already  people  were  hanging  flags  out  of  the  windows 
and  stringing  them  across  the  streets.  Every  sled  and 
sleigh  had  some  sort  of  banner,  if  nothing  more  than 
white  or  brown  paper  with  the  five  welcome  letters,  and 
everybody  was  shouting.  Some  men  were  carrying  high 
banners  with  the  words  in  blue  or  red  on  a  white  ground. 
When  they  came  to  State  Street  it  was  impassable. 
Cornhill  was  jammed.  The  Evening  Gazette  office  had 
the  announcement,  thirty-two  hours  from  New  York 
(there  was  no  telegraph  or  railroad  train  then) : 

"  Sir :  I  hasten  to  acquaint  you  for  the  information  of 

the  public  of  the  arrival  here  this  afternoon  of  H.  Br.  M. 

sloop  of  war  Favorite,  in  which  has  come  passenger  Mr. 

Carroll,  American  Messenger,  having  in  his  possession 

A  Treaty  of  Peace." 

They  passed  that  word  from  the  nearest,  standing  by 
the  bulletin,  to  the  farther  circles,  and  in  five  minutes  the 
crowd  knew  it  by  heart.  On  the  Commons  the  drums 
were  beating,  the  cannons  firing,  and  people  shouting 
themselves  hoarse. 

Mr.  Adams  went  around  to  the  Royall  house,  and  that 
looked  like  a  hotel  on  a  gala  day,  and  was  nearly  as  full 
of  people.  The  treaty  had  been  signed  on  Christmas 
Eve.  The  President  had  now  to  issue  a  decree  suspend 
ing  hostilities.  But  one  of  the  most  brilliant  battles  had 
been  fought  on  the  8th  of  January  at  New  Orleans, 
under  General  Jackson — a  farewell  shot. 

For  a  week  no  one  could  think  or  talk  of  anything 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  337 

else.  Then  the  official  acounts  having  been  received 
from  Washington,  there  were  plans  for  a  grand  proces 
sion.  An  oratorio  was  given  at  the  Stone  Chapel  in  the 
morning.  Madam  Royall  had  managed  to  obtain  seats 
for  Mr.  Winthrop  and  Doris  with  her  party.  The 
church  was  crowded.  American  and  British  officers  in 
full  uniform  were  side  by  side, — as  happy  to  be  at  peace 
as  the  rulers  themselves, — chatting  cordially  with  each 
other. 

The  State  House  was  decorated  with  transparencies, 
and  there  were  to  be  fireworks  in  the  evening.  The 
procession  marched  around  the  Common,  with  the  dif 
ferent  trades  drawn  on  sleds.  Printers  struck  off  hand 
bills  with  the  word  "  Peace!  "  printed  on  them  and  dis 
tributed  them  among  the  crowd.  The  carpenters  were 
erecting  a  Temple  of  Peace.  The  papermakers  had  long 
strips  of  red,  white,  and  blue:  every  trade  had  hit  upon 
some  signification  of  the  general  joy. 

Uncle  Win  sent  Cato  round  for  Mercy  and  Warren 
Leverett  to  come  to  tea,  and  then  they  went  out  to  see 
the  illumination  and  the  fireworks.  Old  Boston  had 
suffered  a  great  deal  from  the  war,  and  her  rejoicing  was 
as  broad  as  her  sorrow  had  been  deep. 

As  if  that  was  not  enough,  there  was  to  be  a  grand 
Peace  Ball.  The  gentry  did  not  so  often  patronize  public 
balls,  but  this  was  an  exception.  Uncle  Winthrop  pro 
cured  a  ticket  for  Wrarren  and  his  wife.  Mrs.  Gilman 
was  shocked,  and  Mercy  like  a  modern  woman  declared 
she  had  nothing  to  wear.  But  Aunt  Priscilla  brought 
out  her  last  remnant  of  gorgeousness,  a  gray  satin  that 
looked  very,  youthful  draped  with  sheer  white. 

"  I  feel  just  as  if  I  was  going  to  be  married  over  again," 
Mercy  declared  laughingly;  and  Warren  said  she  had 
never  looked  so  beautiful. 

Uncle  Winthrop  left   Doris'  adornments  to   Madam 


338        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Royall  and  Mrs.  Chapman.  She  and  Eudora  had  the 
same  kind  of  gowns — sheer,  dotted  muslin  trimmed  with 
rows  of  white  satin  ribbon,  and  the  bodice  with  frills  of 
lace  and  bows  of  ribbon. 

The  hairdresser  did  her  hair  in  a  multitude  of  puffs 
and  curls  that  made  her  look  quite  like  a  young  lady. 
She  was  still  very  slim,  but  growing  tall  rapidly.  In  fact, 
as  Uncle  Winthrop  looked  at  her  he  realized  that  she 
could  not  always  remain  a  little  girl. 

Concert  Hall  was  brilliantly  illuminated  and  decorated 
with  flags  and  flowers.  A  platform  surrounded  the  floor, 
and  many  people  preferred  to  be  spectators  or  just  join 
in  the  march.  There  were  some  naval  as  well  as  military 
officers,  and  Doris  kept  a  sharp  watch,  for  it  almost 
seemed  as  if  she  might  come  upon  Cary.  Oh,  where 
would  he  hear  the  declaration  of  peace ! 

The  dancing  was  quite  delightful  to  most  of  the  young 
people.  Even  those  who  just  walked  about,  looked 
happy,  and  little  knots  chatted  and  smiled,  adding  a  cer 
tain  interest  to  the  scene.  The  supper  was  very  fine,  and 
after  that  many  of  the  quality  retired,  leaving  the  floor 
to  those  who  had  come  to  dance. 

Doris  looked  bright  the  next  morning  as  she  came  to 
breakfast  in  her  blue  flannel  frock  and  lace  tucker,  and 
her  hair  tied  up  high  with  a  red  ribbon,  which  with  her 
white  skin  "  made  the  American  colors,"  Helen  Chap 
man  said. 

"  I  am  glad  to  get  back  my  little  girl,"  Uncle  Winthrop 
exclaimed,  as  he  placed  his  hands  lightly  on  her  shoul 
ders.  "  You  looked  strange  to  me  last  night.  Doris, 
how  tall  you  are  growing !  "  in  half-surprise. 

"That  is  an  Adams  trait,  Aunt  Priscilla  would  say. 
And  do  you  remember  that  I  am  fifteen?  " 

"  Isn't  there  some  way  that  girls  can  be  set  back?  "  he 
asked  with  feigned  anxiety. 


ELIZABETH   AND— PEACE.  339 

"  I've  heard  of  their  being  set  back  after  they  reached 
thirty  or  forty,"  said  Miss  Recompense. 

"  I  don't  want  to  wait  so  long,"  returned  Uncle  Win- 
throp  with  a  smile. 

"  There  were  some  beautiful  old  ladies  there  last 
night,"  said  Doris.  "  The  one  with  black  velvet  and 
diamonds — Madam  Bowdoin.  Is  that  Aunt  Priscilla's 
friend?" 

"  I  suppose  so.  Mr.  Perkins  was  held  in  high  esteem, 
and  Aunt  Priscilla  used  to  go  about  in  her  carriage  then." 

"And  Madam  Scott!  Uncle  Win,  to  think  she  was 
John  Hancock's  wife,  and  he  signed  the  Declaration  of 
Independence!  " 

"And  after  that  I  wouldn't  have  married  anybody,"  de 
clared  Miss  Recompense  with  haughty  stiffness. 

The  enthusiasm  did  not  die  out  at  once.  When  men 
or  women  met  they  had  to  talk  over  the  good  news. 
Warren  Leverett  declared  that  business  was  reviving. 
Mercy  told  Uncle  Winthrop  that  she  had  never  expected 
to  see  so  many  famous  people  under  such  grand  con 
ditions  as  a  Peace  Ball,  and  that  it  would  be  some 
thing  to  talk  about  when  she  was  an  old  lady.  Aunt 
Priscilla  listened  to  the  accounts  with  deep  interest. 

0  And  I  looked  like  a  real  young  lady,"  said  Doris. 
"  I  was  frightened  when  I  came  to  think  about  it.  I 
woufd  like  to  stay  a  little  girl  for  years  and  years.  But 
I  would  not  have  missed  the  ball  for  anything.  I  do 
not  believe  there  will  ever  be  such  a  grand  occasion 
again." 


340        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 
CHAPTER  XXII. 

GARY     ADAMS. 

I  T  took  a  good  while  in  those  days  for  the  news  of  peace 

to  go  around  the  world.  But  there  was  a  general 
reign  of  peace.  The  European  countries  had  mostly 
settled  their  difficulties;  there  was  royalty  proper  again 
on  the  throne  of  France.  Napoleon  swept  through  his 
hundred  brilliant  days,  and  was  banished  for  life  to  the 
rocky  isle  of  St.  Helena;  the  young  King  of  Rome  was 
a  virtual  prisoner  to  Austria,  and  Russia  and  Prussia  be 
gan  to  breathe  freely  once  more. 

The  United  States  had  won  a  standing  among  the 
nations.  Her  indomitable  courage,  her  successes  against 
tremendous  odds,  had  impressed  Europe  with  her  vitality 
and  determination. 

One  by  one  the  ships  came  back  to  home  ports.  Mr. 
Adams  and  Doris  watched  and  listened  to  every  bit  of 
news  eagerly. 

The  old  apothecary's  shop  on  Washington  Street,  to 
begin  a  famous  history  a  decade  later  as  "  The  Old  Cor 
ner  Bookstore,"  was  even  then  a  rendezvous  for  the  news 
of  the  day.  People  paused  going  up  and  down,  and  each 
one  added  his  bit  to  the  general  fund,  or  took  with  him 
the  knowledge  he  was  eagerly  seeking. 

And  when  someone  said,  "  Heard  from  your  son  yet, 
Mr.  Adams?  "  he  could  only  make  a  negative  gesture. 

"  If  there  isn't  some  word  of  Cary  Adams  soon,  his 
father  will  never  live  to  welcome  him  home,"  said  Madam 
Royall  to  her  daughter.  "  He  grows  thinner  every  day. 
What  a  perfect  Godsend  Doris  has  been!  " 

Madam  Royall  was  hale  and  hearty  though  she  had 
lived  through  many  sorrows. 


GARY   ADAMS.  341 

The  coveted  news  came  first  from  Betty.  She  had 
written  a  letter  to  send  by  a  private  messenger,  and 
opened  it  to  add  this  postscript: 

"  Mr.  Bowen  is  waiting  for  this  letter.  Mr.  King  has 
just  come  in  with  the  news  that  two  ships  have  arrived  at 
Portsmouth.  Among  the  officers  is  '  Lieutenant  Gary 
Adams.'  That  is  all  we  know." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Win!  "  Doris'  eyes  swam  in  tears  of  joy. 
"  Read  Betty's  postscript."  Then  she  ran  out  of  the 
room  and  had  a  good  cry  by  herself,  though  why  any 
one  should  want  to  cry  over  such  joyful  news  she  could 
not  quite  understand. 

Afterward  she  tied  on  her  hat  and  ran  over  to  Madam 
Royall's  and  then  up  to  Sudbury  Street.  For  in  those 
days  people  were  wont  to  say  to  their  neighbors,  "  Come, 
rejoice  with  me!  " 

When  she  returned  home  the  house  was  very  quiet. 
Solomon  came  and  rubbed  against  her  in  mute  inquiry. 
No  one  was  in  the  study.  She  went  out  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Don't  disturb  your  uncle,  Doris,"  said  Miss  Recom 
pense.  "  The  news  quite  overcame  him.  He  has  gone 
to  lie  down." 

After  dinner  she  went  out  again  for  some  lessons.  Oh, 
how  bright  the  world  looked,  though  it  was  a  day  in  later 
March,  but  the  wind  had  a  Southern  softness.  Soon  the 
wild  flowers  would  be  out.  There  was  a  very  interesting 
new  study,  botany,  that  the  previous  autumn  had  taken 
groups  of  girls  out  in  the  lanes  and  fields,  and  some  had 
ventured  to  visit  the  Botanic  Gardens  at  Harvard  Uni 
versity.  Doris  was  much  interested  in  it. 

Uncle  Winthrop  came  to  supper,  and  Doris  played  and 
sang  for  him  during  the  evening.  For  though  Gary  was 
the  uppermost  thought  in  both  hearts,  they  could  not 
talk  about  him. 

It  was  a  tedious  post  journey  from  Washington  to 


342        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Boston.  One  had  to  possess  one's  soul  in  patience.  But 
the  letter  came  at  length. 

Gary  had  to  go  to  Washington,  as  there  was  some  prize 
money  and  claims  to  be  inquired  into.  He  had  handed 
in  his  resignation,  and  should  hereafter  be  a  private  citi 
zen  of  dear  old  Boston.  There  was  much  more  that 
gladdened  his  father's  heart  and  betrayed  a  manly 
spirit. 

Betty  returned  home,  though  Mrs.  King  declared  she 
only  lent  her  for  a  visit.  She  was  very  stylish  now,  and 
was  studying  French,  for  it  might  be  possible  that  Mr. 
King  would  go  abroad  and  take  his  wife  and  Betty. 

"  I  do  wonder  if  you  will  ever  settle  down?  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Leverett  anxiously.  That  meant  marriage  and 
housekeeping. 

Betty  laughed.  "  You  know  I  have  settled  to  be  the 
old  maid  aunt,"  she  returned.  "  But  I  am  going  to  have 
a  good  young  time  first.  And,  mother,  you  can  hardly 
realize  what  a  fine,  generous,  broad-minded  man  Mat 
King  has  made." 

There  were  lovely  odds  and  ends  of  attire,  dainty  slip 
pers,  long  gloves  that  came  to  your  very  shoulders,  van- 
dyke  capes  of  beautiful  lace,  buckles  that  looked  like 
diamonds,  ribbons  and  belts  and  sashes.  Mercy  said 
Betty  could  go  down  to  Washington  Street  and  open  a 
fancy-goods  store.  And,  oh,  the  delightful  things  she 
had  seen  and  done,  the  skating  parties  in  the  winter,  the 
sleigh  rides  when  one  stopped  at  a  cozy,  well-kept 
tavern  and  had  a  dainty  supper  and  a  dance.  The  drives 
down  around  the  Battery  and  Bowling  Green,  and  the 
promenades.  There  were  still  a  good  many  military  men 
in  New  York,  but  it  had  not  suffered  as  much  from  the 
war  as  Boston. 

But  Boston  was  growing  beautiful  by  the  hour,  with 
her  pretty  private  gardens  and  hundreds  of  fruit  trees 


GARY   ADAMS.  343 

blooming  everywhere,  and  the  great  Common  where 
people  went  for  walks  on  sunny  afternoons. 

Miss  Recompense  had  a  gorgeous  tulip  bed  and  some 
lilies  of  the  valley,  which  were  quite  a  new  thing.  Cato 
trimmed  and  trained  the  roses  and  vines,  and  the  old 
Adams  house  was  quite  a  bower  of  beauty. 

One  April  afternoon  Doris  sat  by  the  study  window 
doing  some  lace  work,  while  Solomon  lay  curled  up  on 
the  sill.  She  kept  glancing  out.  People  were  quite 
given  to  going  around  this  corner  to  get  into  Common 
Street.  She  liked  to  see  them.  Now  and  then  a  friend 
nodded.  Uncle  Win  had  been  reading  aloud  from 
"  Jerusalem  Delivered,"  but  Doris  thought  it  rather 
prosy,  and  strayed  off  into  her  own  thoughts. 

A  tall,  soldierly  fellow  came  up  the  street,  looked,  hesi 
tated,  opened  the  gate  softly,  and  glanced  down  at  the 
tulips.  He  was  quite  imposing  as  to  figure,  and  his 
complexion  was  bronzed,  the  ends  of  his  brown  hair 
rather  long  and  curling.  He  was  in  citizen  clothes,  and 
Doris  wondered  why  she  should  think  of  Lieutenant 
Hawthorne.  She  had  expected  Cary  in  all  the  glory  of 
a  naval  uniform — a  slim,  fair,  boyish  person  with  a  light 
springy  walk.  It  never  could  be  Cary ! 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Win,  quick !  "  as  the  step  sounded  on  the 

porch.  "  It  is — someone "  She  was  so  little  certain 

sfie  could  not  utter  a  name. 

Uncle  Winthrop  went  out,  opened  the  door,  and  his 
son  put  his  arms  about  the  father's  neck.  If  there  had 
been  need  of  words  neither  could  have  uttered  them  for 
many  minutes. 

When  Miss  Recompense  cleaned  house  a  week  or  two 
before  the  piano  had  been  moved  into  the  parlor.  The 
door  stood  open  so  that  it  could  have  the  warmth  of  the 
hall  fire.  The  two  entered  it  when  they  had  found  their 
voices. 


344        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

"  It  is  Gary,"  thought  Doris  with  a  sense  of  disap 
pointment,  though  why  she  could  not  have  told. 

Half  an  hour  afterward  they  came  out  to  the  study. 

"Oh,  Doris!"  Gary  cried,  "how  you  have  changed 
and  grown.  I  shouldn't  have  known  you!  I've  been 
carrying  about  with  me  the  remembrance  of  a  little  girl. 
In  my  mind  you  have  been  no  taller,  no  older,  and  yet 
I  might  have  known — why,  we  shall  have  to  get  ac 
quainted  all  over  again." 

Doris  blushed.  "  I  am  sure  I  have  not  changed  as 
much  as  you.  I  did  not  think  it  could  be  you." 

"  Someone  at  Annapolis  before  we  went  out  designated 
me  as  '  That  consumptive-looking  young  fellow.'  But  I 
have  grown  strong  and  hearty,  and  no  doubt  I  shall  come 
to  fourscore.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  shall  be  all  labor  and 
sorrow,  either." 

Then  Gary  made  the  rounds  of  the  house.  Miss 
Recompense  was  as  much  amazed  as  Doris  had  been. 
Cato  and  Dinah  were  overjoyed.  He  had  hardly  dared 
dream  that  nothing  would  be  changed,  that  more  than 
the  old  love  would  be  given  back.  He  had  gone  away 
a  boy,  nurtured  in  the  restraints  of  wise  Puritanism  that 
made  a  lasting  mark  on  New  England  character;  he  had 
come  home  a  man  of  experience,  of  deeper  thought,  of 
higher  understanding  and  stronger  affection.  He  was 
proud  that  he  had  done  his  duty  as  a  citizen  of  the  repub 
lic,  but  he  knew  now  that  neither  naval  or  military  life 
was  to  his  taste.  Henceforth  he  was  to  be  a  son  in  the 
old  home. 

Doris  left  them  talking  when  she  went  to  bed,  a  little 
hurt  and  jealous  that  she  was  no  longer  first,  that  she 
could  not  be  all  to  Uncle  Win.  It  gave  her  a  kind  of 
solitary  feeling. 

The  old  house  took  on  an  aspect  of  intense  interest. 
There  was  a  continual  going  and  coming  and  enough 


GARY   ADAMS.  345 

congratulations  for  a  wedding  feast.  All  Gary's  friends 
vied  with  each  other  in  warm  welcomes,  and  Madam 
Royall  claimed  him  with  the  old  time  cordiality. 

Was  there  any  disappointment  about  Alice? 

He  had  a  boy's  thought  the  first  few  months  about 
winning  glory  for  her,  of  coming  back  to  her,  and  per 
haps  laying  his  triumphs  at  her  feet.  But  the  real  work, 
the  anxieties,  the  solemn  fact  of  taking  one's  life  in  one's 
hands  and  realizing  how  near  death  might  be,  had 
changed  him  month  by  month,  until  he  had  only  one 
prayer  left — that  he  might  see  his  father  again.  If  she 
was  happy — she  surely  had  her  heart's  choice — he  was 
satisfied.  They  had  never  really  been  lovers. 

When  the  first  excitement  of  welcome  was  over  there 
were  many  things  to  think  about.  His  interrupted  career 
was  one.  Governor  Gore  had  been  chosen  United  States 
Senator  the  year  before,  but  he  still  kept  his  office,  and 
very  kindly  greeted  the  return  of  his  student,  offering 
him  still  greater  advantages.  Here  the  young  Daniel 
Webster,  a  lad  fresh  from  the  country,  had  won  the 
friendship  of  his  master,  and  after  a  brief  trial  in  New 
Hampshire  had  returned  to  Boston. 

Boston  town  began  to  experience  the  beneficent  power 
of  peace.  Languishing  industries  revived.  Commerce 
had  been  crippled  by  the  war,  but  the  inhabitants  of  New 
England  had  learned  the  value  of  their  own  ingenuity  and 
industry  to  supply  needs,  and  now  they  were  roused  to 
the  fact  there  was  an  outside  world  to  supply  as  well. 

Improvements  started  up  on  every  side.  There  was 
even  talk  of  transforming  the  town  into  a  city.  In 
deed,  it  had  never  been  a  formally  incorporated  town. 
The  Court  of  Assistants  one  hundred  and  seventy  years 
Sefore  had  changed  the  name  from  Tri-Mountain  to  Bos 
ton,  and  it  had  taken  the  privileges  of  a  town.  But  there 
were  many  grave  questions  coming  to  the  front, 


346        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD  BOSTON. 

The  family  party  at  the  Adams  house  this  year  seemed 
to  include  half  of  Boston.  One  by  one  the  old  relatives 
had  dropped  out.  Some  of  the  younger  ones  had  gone 
to  other  cities. 

Madam  Royall  came  over  to  be  mistress  of  ceremonies. 
For  besides  the  ovation  to  the  returned  lieutenant,  Miss 
Doris  Adams  was  to  be  presented  as  a  full-fledged  young 
lady,  and  she  wore  her  pretty  gown  made  for  the  Peace 
Ball,  and  pink  roses.  Miss  Betty  Leverett  was  quite  a 
star  as  well.  Miss  Helen  Chapman  was  engaged,  and 
Eudora  was  a  favorite  with  the  young  gentlemen. 

"  I  shall  be  so  sorry  when  they  are  all  gone,"  declared 
Madam  Royall.  "  I  do  love  young  people,  but  I  am 
afraid  my  fourth  generation  will  not  grow  up  in  time  for 
me  to  enjoy  them.  You  must  keep  good  watch  over 
Doris  lest  some  wolf  enters  the  fold  and  carries  off  the 
sweet  child." 

Uncle  Win  smiled  and  then  looked  grave.  Doris 
carried  off — oh,  no,  he  could  never  spare  her! 

Gary  Adams  had  not  forgotten  how  to  dance,  and  every 
girl  he  asked  was  delighted  with  the  opportunity.  It 
seemed  rather  queer  to  Doris  to  accept  or  decline  on  her 
own  responsibility. 

A  week  or  two  later,  when  they  had  settled  to  quite 
regular  living,  Gary  came  out  and  sat  on  the  step  one 
evening. 

"  Doris,"  he  began,  "  do  you  remember  the  letter  I 
sent  you  by  a  Lieutenant  Hawthorne — that  first  let 
ter "  What  a  flood  of  remembrances  it  brought! 

"  Oh,  yes."  She  had  begun  to  feel  very  much  at 
home  with  Gary — his  little  sister,  as  he  called  her.  "And 
I  must  tell  you  a  queer  thing — the  day  you  came  home — 
when  I  looked  down  the  path — I  thought  of  him.  You 
had  changed  so.  I  don't  know  what  sent  him  to  my 
mind." 


GARY  ADAMS.  347 

"  That  was  odd.  He  is  in  town.  He  called  on  me 
to-day.  For  the  last  year  he  has  been  Captain  Haw 
thorne,  and  he  is  a  splendid  fellow.  He  has  been  sent  to 
the  Charlestown  Navy  Yard,  and  may  be  here  the  next 
three  months,  for  now  the  Government  is  considering  a 
navy.  Well — we  did  some  splendid  fighting  with  the 
old  ships.  But  oh,  Doris,  you  can't  imagine  how  home 
sick  I  was.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  show  the  white  feather 
and  come  home." 

"  Oh,  you  couldn't  have  done  it,  Gary!  " 

"  No,  I  couldn't  when  it  came  to  the  pinch.  But  if  I 
had  gone  with  father's  consent!  I  understood  then  what 
it  would  be  never  to  see  him  again.  I  think  I  shall  be  a 
better  son  all  my  life  for  the  lesson." 

"  Yes,"  in  her  gentle  approving  fashion. 

"  Hawthorne  wants  to  come  over  here,"  Gary  said 
presently.  "  I  think  my  father  would  like  him,  though 
I  notice  he  has  an  aversion  to  military  or  naval  men. 
But  I  shall  never  go  away  again  unless  the  country  is  in 
great  danger." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  him.  I  wonder  if  he  has  changed 
as  much  as  you?  " 

"  I  think  not,"  and  Gary  laughed.  "  He  was  twenty- 
four  then,  and  sort  of  settled  into  manhood,  while  I  was 
a  rather  green  stripling." 

"  You  are  losing  some  of  the  '  sea  tan,'  as  Madam 
Royall  calls  it.  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  like  you  best  fair." 

"  Captain  Hawthorne  is  a  very  handsome  man.  I 
ought  to  feel  flattered  to  be  mistaken  for  him." 

"  Is  he?  "  returned  Doris  simply. 

"  Don't  you  remember  him?  " 

"  I  remember  that  he  asked  me  for  a  rose  and  I  gave  it 
to  him.  It  was  the  last  one  on  the  bush.  I  was  so  glad 
to  get  the  letter  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  else." 

So   Gary  brought   him   over  to   tea   one   afternoon. 


348        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Doris  noted  then  that  he  was  extremely  good-looking 
and  very  entertaining.  Besides,  he  had  a  fine  tenor  voice 
and  they  sang  songs  together. 

Uncle  Winthrop  was  troubled  at  first.  Captain  Haw 
thorne's  enthusiasm  for  his  profession  was  so  ardent 
that  Mr.  Adams  was  alarmed  lest  it  might  turn  Gary's 
thoughts  seaward  again.  But  he  found  presently  that 
Gary's  enlisting  had  been  that  of  a  patriotic,  high-spirited 
boy,  and  that  he  had  no  real  desire  for  the  life. 

What  a  summer  it  was!  Betty  was  over  often,  Eudora 
was  enchanted  with  the  Adams  house,  and  there  was  a 
bevy  of  girls  who  brought  their  sewing  and  spent  the 
afternoon  on  the  stoop.  Sometimes  Uncle  Win  came 
out  and  read  to  them.  There  were  several  new  English 
poets.  A  Lord  Byron  was  writing  the  cantos  of  a  beau 
tiful  and  stirring  poem  entitled  "  Childe  Harold  "  that 
abounded  in  fine  descriptions.  There  were  "  The  Lady 
of  the  Lake  "  and  "  Marmion,"  and  there  was  a  queer 
Scotchy  poet  by  the  name  of  Burns,  who  had  a  dry  wit 
— and  few  could  master  the  tongue.  A  whole  harvest  of 
delight  was  coming  over  from  England. 

There  were  so  many  curious  and  lovely  places  within 
a  few  hours  sail  or  drive.  Captain  Hawthorne  had  spent 
most  of  his  life  in  Maryland,  and  this  scenery  was  new. 
They  made  up  parties  for  the  day,  or  Betty,  Doris,  and 
Uncle  Winthrop  and  the  captain  went  in  a  quartette. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Uncle  Win  said  one  day  with  a  grave 
shake  of  the  head.  "  Do  you  not  think  I  am  rather  an 
old  fellow  to  go  careering  round  with  you  young 
people?  " 

"  But,  you  see,  someone  would  have  to  go,"  explained 
Doris.  "  Young  ladies  can't  go  out  with  a  young  man 
alone.  It  would  have  to  be  Aunt  Elizabeth,  or  Mrs. 
Chapman,  and  I  would  so  much  rather  have  you.  It's 
nice  to  be  just  by  ourselves." 


GARY   ADAMS.  349 

"  The  captain  seems  to  like  Betty  very  much." 

"  Indeed  he  does,"  answered  Doris  warmly. 

Occasionally  Gary  would  get  off  and  join  them.  But 
he  was  trying  hard  to  catch  up.  He  had  gotten  out  of 
study  habits,  and  some  days  he  found  it  quite  irksome, 
for  he  was  fond  of  pleasure,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
Betty  was  extremely  charming,  and  Doris  quaint,  and 
Eudora  vivacious  to  the  point  of  wit. 

One  warm  August  afternoon  he  sat  alone,  having  re 
solved  to  master  a  knotty  point.  What  were  the  others 
doing?  he  wondered. 

There  was  a  step,  and  he  glanced  up. 

"  Oh,"  nodding  to  Captain  Hawthorne,  "  I  was  just 
envying  you  and  all  the  others,  and  wondering  where 
you  were  on  pleasure  bound." 

"  It  was  not  pleasure,  but  hard  work  over  at  the  yard 
to-day.  However,  I  have  the  evening,  and  feel  like  in 
viting  myself  to  partake  of  a  cup  of  the  comforting  tea 
Miss  Recompense  brews." 

"  Come  along  then.  I  have  put  in  a  good  day  and  am 
conscience-clear." 

Gary  began  to  pile  up  his  books. 

"  I  have  only  about  a  fortnight  more,"  Captain  Haw 
thorne  said  slowly. 

Gary  changed  his  coat  and  locked  his  desk.  "  Well?  " 
as  the  caller  was  watching  him  earnestly. 

"  Adams,  do  you  mean — do  you  expect  to  marry  your 
cousin?"  Hawthorne  asked  abruptly. 

"  My  cousin?     Betty  or  Doris?  " 

"  Doris." 

"  Why — no,  I  never  thought  of  it.  And  I  have  a  sight 
of  work  to  do  before  I  marry." 

"  Then — I  suppose  you  never  suspected  such  a  thing 
— but  I  am  in  love  with  her." 

"  In  love  with  Doris !     Why,  she's  just  a  child." 


350       A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

"  I  dare  say  I  shall  have  to  serve  seven  years  before  I 
can  get  your  father's  consent.  She  will  be  older  then. 
I  was  listening  to  a  romantic  story  about  an  old  house 
where  a  handsome  girl  leaned  out  of  a  window  and  her 
beauty  attracted  an  English  officer  passing  by,  who  said 
to  himself  that  was  the  one  woman  for  him,  and 
long  afterward  he  went  back,  found  her,  and  married 
her." 

"  A  handsome  Miss  Sheafe.     Yes."     Gary  smiled. 

"  See  here,  Gary  Adams."  'Hawthorne  took  a  small 
leather  case  out  of  his  pocket.  Between  two  cards  was  a 
pressed  rose.  "  When  I  took  your  packet  to  Miss  Doris 
Adams  almost  four  years  ago,  I  gave  it  into  the  hands  of 
the  sweetest  little  girl  I  ever  saw.  If  I  had  been  less  of 
a  gentleman  I  must  have  kissed  her.  I  espied  one  rose 
in  the  garden  and  asked  her  for  it.  This  is  the  rose  she 
gave  me.  I  meant  to  come  North  and  find  her,  and 
when  I  asked  for  leave  of  absence  to  visit  Boston  this 
business  was  put  in  my  charge.  Then  I  said, '  I  will  look 
up  the  little  girl,  who  must  be  a  large  girl  now,  and  woo 
her  with  the  sincerest  regard.'  It  shall  go  hard  indeed 
with  me  if  I  cannot  win  her.  But  I  have  fancied  of  late 
that  you " 

"  She  is  very  dear  to  me  and  to  my  father.  But  I  had 
not  thought " 

"  Then  I  take  my  chances.  As  I  said,  I  will  wait  for 
her.  She  is  still  very  young,  and  I  should  feel  con 
science-smitten  to  rob  your  father.  Sometime  you  may 
want  to  bring  the  woman  you  love  to  the  old  home,  and 
then  it  will  not  be  so  hard.  I  could  keep  true  to  her  the 
whole  world  over;  and  if  she  promises,  she  will  keep  true 
to  me." 

Gary  Adams  was  deeply  moved.  Such  devotion  ought 
to  win  a  reward.  How  blind  he  and  his  father  had  been, 
thinking  of  Betty  Leverett. 


THE   COST   OF  WOMANHOOD.  351 

Oh,  how  could  they  let  Doris  go!  Yet  a  lover  like 
t'fiis  was  not  to  be  curtly  refused. 

"  I  shall  not  stand  in  your  way,"  quietly. 

"Thank  you  a  thousand  times.  But  if  she  had  been 
for  you,  as  I  feared,  I  should  have  proved  man  enough 
to  keep  silent  and  go  my  way.  It  has  been  a  happy  sum 
mer,  and  in  two  weeks  more  it  will  end.  Still,  I  may  be 
able  to  get  an  appointment  here.  I  shall  try  for  it  and 
return." 

"  Come,"  said  Cary  Adams,  and  he  went  out  feeling 
there  had  been  a  great  change  in  the  world,  and  he  was 
wrapped  about  with  some  mysterious  influence. 

Doris  had  thought  of  Captain  Hawthorne  on  the  day 
of  his,  Gary's,  return.  How  many  times  besides  had  she 
thought  of  him?  And  she  had  recalled  giving  him  the 
rose. 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    COST    OF    WOMANHOOD. 

A  HAPPY  fortnight.  It  was  worth  all  the  after-pain 
•**•  to  have  it  to  remember.  When  Boston  was  a  great 
city  half  a  century  later,  and  there  had  been  another  war, 
and  Captain  Hawthorne  had  risen  in  the  ranks  and  been 
put  on  the  retired  list,  he  came  a  grizzled  old  man  to  find 
the  place  that  had  always  lived  in  his  remembrance. 
But  the  old  house  had  been  swept  away  by  the  march  of 
improvement,  the  rounding  corner  straightened  and 
given  over  to  business,  and  the  Common  was  magnificent 
in  beauty.  The  tall,  thin,  scholarly  man  had  gone  to  the 
wife  of  his  youth.  Doris,  little  Doris,  was  very  happy. 
So  what  did  it  matter? 

There  was  a  succession  of  lovely  days.  One  morning, 
early,  Captain  Hawthorne  joined  Doris  and  her  uncle  in 
a  long  ride  over  on  Boston  Neck.  They  found  an  odd 


352        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

o!3  tavern  kept  by  a  sailor  who  had  been  round  the 
world  and  taken  a  hand  in  the  "  scrimmage,"  as  he  called 
it,  and  with  his  small  prize  money  bought  out  the  place. 
There  was  some  delightful  bread  and  cold  chicken,  wine 
and  bottled  cider  equal  to  champagne.  There  was  an 
other  long  lovely  day  when  with  Betty  they  went  up  to 
Salem  and  drove  around  the  quaint  streets  and  watched 
the  signs  of  awakening  business.  There  was  Fort  Pick 
ering,  the  lighthouse  out  on  the  island,  the  pretty  Com 
mon,  the  East  India  Marine  Society's  hall  with  its  curi 
osities  (quite  wonderful  even  then),  and  the  clean  streets 
with  their  tidy  shops,  the  children  coming  from  school, 
the  housewives  going  about  on  errands.  Foster  Man 
ning  drove  his  grandmother  down  to  join  them;  and  he 
was  almost  a  young  man  now.  He  told  Doris  they  all 
missed  Elizabeth  so  much,  but  he  was  glad  she  had  had 
that  nice  visit  to  Boston. 

So  the  days  drifted  on;  Doris  unconsciously  sweet  in 
her  simplicity,  yet  so  innocent  that  the  lover  began  to 
fear  while  he  hoped. 

Uncle  Winthrop  had  gone  to  a  meeting  of  the  Histori 
cal  Society.  Miss  Recompense  had  a  neighbor  in  great 
trouble  that  she  was  trying  to  console  out  in  the  supper 
room,  where  they  could  talk  unreservedly.  Gary  was  in 
the  study,  and  the  two  were  sauntering  around  the  fra 
grant  walks  where  the  grassy  beds  had  recently  been  cut. 
There  was  no  moon,  and  the  whole  world  seemed  soft  and 
still,  as  if  it  was  listening  to  the  story  Captain  Hawthorne 
had  to  tell,  as  if  it  was  in  love  with  itself. 

"  Oh,"  interrupted  Doris  with  a  sharp,  pained  cry,  "  do 
not,  please  do  not !  I  never  dreamed — I — shall  never  go 
away  from  Uncle  Winthrop.  I  do  not  want  any  other 
love.  I  thought  it  was — Betty.  Oh,  forgive  me  for  the 
pain  and  disappointment.  I  seem  even  to  myself  such  a 
little  girl " 


THE   COST    OF   WOMANHOOD.  353 

"  But  I  can  wait  years.  I  wanted  you  to  know.  Oh, 
Doris,  as  the  years  go  on  can  you  not  learn  to  love  me? 
I  will  be  patient  and  live  in  the  sweet,  grand  hope  that 
some  day " 

"  No,  no;  do  not  hope.  I  cannot  promise.  Oh,  you 
are  so  noble  and  upright,  can  you  not  accept  this  truth 
from  me?  For  it  would  only  be  pain  and  disappoint 
ment  in  the  end." 

No,  she  did  not  love  him.  Her  sweet  soul  was  still 
asleep  within  her  fair  body.  He  was  too  really  honor 
able  to  persist. 

"  Doris,"  he  said, — what  a  sweet  girl's  name  it  was! — 
"  five  years  from  this  time  I  shall  come  back.  You  will 
be  a  woman  then,  you  are  still  a  child.  And  if  no  other 
lover  has  won  you,  I  shall  ask  again." 

He  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips.  Then  he  led  her 
around  to  the  porch,  and  bade  her  a  tender  good-night. 
He  would  not  embarrass  her  by  any  longer  stay. 

She  ran  up  the  steps.  Gary  intercepted  her  in  the 
hall. 

"  Has  he  gone?     Doris " 

"  Oh,  did  you  know?  How  could  you  let  him! "  she 
cried  in  anguish.  "  How  could  you !  " 

"  Doris — my  dear  little  sister,  he  loved  you  so.  But 
I  wish  it  had  been  Betty.  Oh,  don't  cry.  You  have 
done  nothing.  I  am  sorry,  but  he  would  not  have  been 
satisfied  if  he  had  not  spoken.  <He  wanted  to  ask  father 
first,  but  I  hated  to  have  him  pained  if  it  was  not  neces 
sary " 

"  Thank  you  for  that,  Gary.  Do  not  tell  him.  You 
will  not?  "  she  pleaded,  thinking  of  the  other  first. 

"  No,  dear.     We  must  shield  him  all  we  can." 

Yes,  they  would  try  always.  There  was  a  little  rift  in 
the  cloud  of  pain. 

The  next  evening  Captain  Hawthorne  came  over  to 


354        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

bid  them  a  formal  good-by.  Helen  Chapman  and  her 
lover  and  Eudora  were  there,  so  it  was  an  unembarrass- 
ing  affair  with  many  good  wishes  on  both  sides. 

Doris  thought  she  would  like  to  run  away  and  hide. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  whole  story  was  written  in  her  face. 
Betty  suspected,  but  she  loved  her  too  well  to  tease.  And 
almost  immediately  Helen  announced  her  arrangements. 
She  was  to  be  married  in  October.  Doris  and  Gary 
must  stand  with  her,  and  one  of  the  Chapman  cousins 
with  Eudora.  Another  warm  girl  friend  and  her  lover 
would  complete  the  party.  Grandmamma  had  stipulated 
that  Mr.  Harrison  Gray  should  cast  in  his  lot  with  them 
for  a  year.  Mr.  Sargent  had  been  attached  to  the  em 
bassy  at  London  and  they  would  remain  two  years  longer 
at  least.  Madam  Royall  could  not  bear  to  have  the 
family  shrink  so  rapidly. 

Betty  was  to  go  away  again.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Matthias 
King  came  together  this  time  to  see  old  friends  and  Bos 
ton,  that  Mr.  King  found  wonderfully  changed.  He  was 
to  go  to  France  on  business  for  the  firm  of  which  he  was 
a  member,  and  be  absent  a  year  at  least.  It  would  be 
such  a  splendid  chance  for  Betty.  They  were  to  take 
their  own  little  Bessy  and  leave  the  three  younger  chil 
dren  with  a  friend  who  had  a  school  for  small  people 
and  who  would  give  them  a  mother's  care. 

There  was  a  little  grandson  in  Sudbury  Street,  and 
Mercy  had  proved  a  very  agreeable  daughter-in-law. 
Warren  had  begun  to  prosper  again,  and  was  full  of  hope. 
The  children  at  Hollis  Leverett's  were  growing  rapidly. 
They  no  longer  said  "  little  Sam."  He  was  almost  a 
young  man.  He  had  taken  the  Franklin  prize  at  the 
Latin  School  and  was  now  apprenticed  to  an  architect 
and  builder,  and  would  set  up  for  himself  when  he  came 
of  age,  as  Boston  had  begun  to  build  up  rapidly.  But 


THE   COST   OF   WOMANHOOD.  355 

he  couldn't  help  envying  Cousin  Cary  Adams  his  prize 
money  and  wondering  what  he  meant  to  do  with  it. 

An  invitation  to  go  to  Paris  was  not  to  be  lightly  de 
clined  then,  any  more  than  it  would  be  now.  Mrs.  Man 
ning  did  not  see  "  how  Betty  could  leave  mother  for  so 
long,"  but  Mrs.  Leverett  was  in  good  health,  and  though 
she  hated  to  have  her  go  so  far  away,  there  really  could 
be  no  objection,  when  Matthias  King  was  so  generous. 

"  I  am  going  to  have  some  of  my  good  times  while  we 
are  together  and  able  to  enjoy  them,"  he  said  to  Mrs. 
Leverett.  "  I  shall  have  to  leave  Electa  alone  every  now 
and  then  while  I  am  about  business,  and  it  will  be  such  a 
comfort  to  her  to  have  Betty.  No  doubt,  we  shall  marry 
her  to  a  French  count." 

"  Oh,  no,  bring  her  back  to  me,"  said  Betty's  mother. 

There  was  quite  a  stir  among  Betty's  compeers.  She 
was  congratulated  and  envied,  and  they  begged  her  to 
write  everything  she  could  about  French  fashions.  How 
lucky  that  she  had  been  studying  French! 

Aunt  Priscilla  had  a  hard  struggle  with  conscience 
about  a  matter  that  she  felt  to  be  quite  a  duty.  Giving 
away  finery  that  you  would  never  wear  was  one  thing, 
but  your  money  was  quite  another. 

"  Betty,"  she  said,  I'm  going  to  make  you  a  little  gift. 
If  you  shouldn't  want  to  use  it  maybe  Mat  will  see  some 
way  to  invest  it  for  you.  When  the  trouble  came  to 
Warren,  I  said  he  might  as  well  have  his  part  as  to  wait 
until  I  was  dead  and  gone.  I  have  been  paid  over  and 
over  again  in  comfort.  He  grows  so  much  like  your 
father,  Betty.  And  he's  weathered  through  the  storm 
and  stress.  So  I'll  do  the  same  by  you,  and  if  you  never 
get  any  more  you  must  be  content." 

It  was  an  order  for  five  hundred  dollars.  Winthrop 
Adams  would  see  it  paid. 


356        A   LITTLE    GIRL   IN    OLD   BOSTON. 

Betty  was  quite  overwhelmed.  "  I  ought  to  give  half 
of  it  to  mother!  "  she  cried. 

"  No,  no.  Your  mother  will  have  all  she  needs.  The 
Mannings  would  borrow  it  of  her  to  buy  more  ground 
with.  I've  no  patience  with  all  their  scrimping,  and 
sometimes  I  give  thanks  that  poor  Elizabeth  is  out  of  it 
all.  Don't  have  an  anxious  thought  about  money  where 
you  mother  is  concerned." 

"  What  a  comfort  you  are,  Aunt  Priscilla." 

"  Well,  it  took  years  enough  to  teach  me  that  anybody 
needed  comforting." 

As  for  Doris,  she  was  so  busy  that  she  could  hardly 
think  about  herself  or  Captain  Hawthorne.  She  did 
wish  he  had  not  loved  her.  If  she  had  known  about  the 
rose  her  heart  would  have  been  still  more  sore  and 
pitiful. 

Betty  went  before  the  wedding.  They  took  a  sloop  to 
New  York  and  were  to  leave  there  for  Havre. 

Madam  Royall  had  this  wedding  just  to  her  fancy,  and 
it  was  quite  a  fine  affair.  Gary  looked  very  nice,  Doris 
thought,  for  the  sea  tan  had  nearly  all  bleached  out.  His 
figure  was  compact,  and  he  had  a  rather  soldierly  bear 
ing.  He  was  quite  a  hero,  too,  to  his  old  college  mates, 
some  of  whom  had  not  considered  him  possessed  of  really 
strong  characteristics. 

But  the  young  ladies  were  proud  of  his  notice  and 
attention,  and  there  was  no  end  of  invitations  from  their 
mothers  when  they  were  going  to  have  evening  com 
panies. 

The  cold  weather  came  on  apace.  Mr.  Adams  seemed 
to  feel  it  more  and  gave  up  his  horseback  rides.  He 
interested  himself  very  much  in  the  library  plans,  but  he 
grew  fonder  of  staying  at  home,  and  Doris  was  such  a 
pleasant  companion.  Gary  had  never  been  fond  of 
poetry,  and  now  he  threw  himself  into  his  profession  with 


THE   COST   OF  WOMANHOOD.  357 

a  resolve  to  stand  high.  Manhood's  ambition  was  so 
different  from  the  lukewarm  endeavors  of  the  boy. 

His  father  did  enjoy  his  earnestness  very  much. 
Sometimes  he  roused  himself  to  argue  a  point  when  two 
or  three  young  men  dropped  in,  and  the  old  fire  flashed 
up,  though  he  liked  best  his  ease  and  his  poets,  or  Doris 
reading  or  singing  some  old  song.  But  he  did  not  lose 
his  interest  in  the  world's  progress  or  that  of  his  be 
loved  city. 

Doris  was  very  happy  in  a  young  girl's  way.  One 
did  not  expect  to  fill  every  moment  with  pleasure,  or  go 
to  parties  or  the  theater  every  evening.  There  were 
other  duties  and  purposes  to  life.  As  Aunt  Priscilla  did 
not  go  out  after  the  cold  weather  set  in,  she  ran  up  there 
nearly  every  day  with  some  cheerful  bit  of  gossip. 
Madam  Royall  had  grown  very  fond  of  her  as  well. 
There  was  the  dancing  class;  and  the  sewing  class,  when 
they  made  garments  for  poor  people ;  and  shopping — even 
if  one  did  not  buy  much,  for  now  such  pretty  French  and 
English  goods  were  shown  again.  Then  one  stopped  in 
the  confectioner's  on  Newberry  Street  and  had  a  cup  of 
hot  coffee  or  tea  if  it  was  a  cold  day;  or  strolled  down 
Cornhill  to  see  what  new  books  had  come  over  from 
London,  for  the  Waverley  novels  had  just  begun,  and 
everybody  was  wondering  about  the  author.  Or  you 
went  to  Faneuil  Hall  to  see  Trumbull's  Declaration  of 
Independence,  which  was  considered  a  very  remarkable 
work.  There  were  the  sleigh-rides,  when  you  went  out 
in  style  and  had  a  supper  and  a  dance;  and  the  sledding 
parties,  that  were  really  the  most  fun  of  all,  when  you 
almost  forgot  you  were  grown-up. 

Gary  was  always  ready  to  attend  his  cousin,  though 
she  quite  as  often  went  out  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gray  and 
Eudora.  When  he  thought  of  it,  it  did  seem  a  little 
curious  that  Doris  had  no  special  company. 


353        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD    BOSTON. 

But  a  girl  was  not  allowed  to  keep  special  company 
until  the  family  had  consented  and  she  was  regularly 
engaged.  Young  men  and  girls  came  to  sing,  for  a 
piano  was  a  rarity;  there  were  parties  going  here  and 
there,  but  Doris  never  evinced  any  particular  preference. 

So  spring  came  again  and  gardening  engrossed  Doris. 
She  had  been  learning  housekeeping  in  all  its  branches 
under  the  experienced  tuition  of  Miss  Recompense  and 
Dinah.  A  girl  who  did  not  know  everything  from  the 
roasting  of  a  turkey  to  the  making  of  sack-posset,  and 
through  all  the  gradations  of  pickling  and  preserving, 
was  not  considered  "  finished." 

Doris  was  very  fond  of  the  wide  out-of-doors.  She 
often  took  her  work,  and  Uncle  Winthrop  his  book,  and 
sat  out  on  a  rustic  seat  at  the  edge  of  the  Common,  which 
was  beginning  to  be  beautiful,  though  it  was  twenty  years 
later  that  the  Botanic  Garden  was  started.  But  now  that 
our  ships  were  going  everywhere,  curious  bulbs  and 
plants  were  brought  from  Holland  and  from  the  East 
Indies  by  sea  captains.  And  they  found  wonderful  wild 
flowers  that  developed  under  cultivation.  Brookline  was 
a  great  resort  on  pleasant  days,  with  its  meadows  and 
wooded  hillsides  and  beautiful  gardens.  Colonel  Per 
kins  had  all  manner  of  foreign  fruits  and  flowers  that  he 
had  brought  home  from  abroad,  and  had  a  greenhouse 
where  you  could  often  find  the  grandmother  of  the  family, 
who  was  most  generous  in  her  gifts.  There  were  people 
who  thought  you  "  flew  in  the  face  of  Providence  "  when 
you  made  flowers  bloom  in  winter,  but  Providence 
seemed  to  smile  on  them. 

Over  on  the  Foster  estate  at  Cambridge  there  was  a 
genuine  hawthorn.  People  made  pilgrimages  to  see  it 
when  it  was  white  with  bloom  and  diffusing  its  peculiar 
odor  all  about.  There  were  the  sweet  blossoms  of  the 
mulberry  and  the  honey  locust,  and  the  air  everywhere 


THE   COST   OF   WOMANHOOD.  359 

was  fragrant,  for  there  were  so  few  factories,  and  people 
had  not  learned  to  turn  waste  materials  into  every  sort 
of  product  and  make  vile  smells. 

Gary  sometimes  left  his  books  early  in  the  afternoon 
and  went  driving  with  them.  If  he  did  not  appreciate 
poetry  so  much,  he  was  on  the  lookout  for  every  fine  tree 
and  curious  flower,  and  twenty  years  later  he  was  deep 
in  the  Horticultural  Society. 

Uncle  Winthrop  bought  a  new  low  carriage  this  sum 
mer.  For  anyone  else  but  a  grave  gentleman  it  would 
have  looked  rather  pronounced,  but  it  was  so  much  easier 
to  get  in  and  out.  And  Doris  in  her  sweet  unconscious 
ness  never  made  any  bid  for  attention,  but  people  would 
turn  and  look  at  them  as  one  looks  at  a  picture. 

Thirty  years  or  so  afterward  old  ladies  would  some 
times  say  to  the  daughters  of  Doris : 

"  My  dear,  I  knew  your  mother  when  she  was  a  sweet, 
fresh  young  girl  and  used  to  go  out  driving  with  her 
uncle.  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  was  one  of  the  high-bred, 
delicate-looking  men  that  would  have  graced  a  court. 
There  wasn't  a  prettier  sight  in  Boston — and,  dear  me! 
that  was  way  back  in  '16  or  '17.  How  time  flies!  " 

They  heard  from  Betty  occasionally.  The  letters  were 
long  and  "  writ  fine,"  though  happily  not  crossed.  They 
should  have  been  saved  for  a  book,  they  were  so  chatty. 
In  August  one  came  to  Doris  that  stirred  up  a  mighty 
excitement.  Betty  had  a  way  of  being  quite  dramatic 
and  leading  up  to  a  climax. 

A  month  before  they  had  met  a  delightful  Frenchman, 
a  M.  Henri  de  la  Maur,  twenty-five  or  thereabouts,  and 
found  him  an  excellent  cicerone  to  some  remarkable 
things  they  had  not  seen.  He  was  much  interested  in 
America  and  its  chief  cities,  especially  Boston,  when  he 
found  that  was  Betty's  native  town. 

And  one  day  he  told  them  of  a  search  he  had  been 


360        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

making  for  a  little  girl.  The  De  la  Maurs  had  suffered 
considerably  under  the  Napoleonic  regime,  and  had  now 
been  restored  to  some  of  their  rights.  There  was  one 
estate  that  could  not  be  settled  until  they  found  a  missing 
member.  They  had  traced  the  mother,  who  had  died  and 
left  a  husband  and  a  little  girl — Jacqueline.  "  That  is 
such  a  common  name  in  France,"  explained  Betty.  She 
had  been  placed  in  a  convent,  and  that  was  such  a  com 
mon  occurrence,  too.  Then  she  had  been  taken  to  the 
North  of  England.  He  had  gone  to  the  old  town,  but  the 
child's  father  had  died  and  some  elderly  relatives  had 
passed  away,  and  the  child  herself  had  been  sent  to  the 
United  States.  Everybody  who  had  known  her  was 
dead  or  had  forgotten. 

"  And  I  never  thought  until  one  day  he  said  Old  Bos 
ton,"  confessed  Betty,  "  when  I  remembered  suddenly 
that  your  mother's  name  was  Jacqueline  Marie  de  la 
Maur  in  the  old  marriage  certificate.  We  had  been 
talking  of  it  a  week  or  more,  but  one  hears  so  many 
family  stories  here  in  Paris,  and  lost  and  found  inherit 
ances.  But  I  almost  screamed  with  surprise,  and  added 
tfie  sequel;  and  he  was  just  overjoyed,  and  brought  the 
family  papers.  He  and  your  mother  are  second-  and 
third-cousins.  It  is  queer  you  should  have  so  many  far- 
off  relations,  and  so  few  near-by  ones,  and  be  mixed  up 
in  so  many  romances. 

"  The  fortune  sounds  quite  grand  in  francs,  but  if  we 
enumerated  our  money  by  quarters  of  dollars,  we  might 
all  be  rich.  It  is  a  snug  little  sum,  however,  and  they  are 
anxious  to  get  it  settled  before  the  next  turn  in  the 
dynasty,  lest  it  might  be  confiscated  again.  So  M. 
Henri  is  coming  home  with  us,  and  we  shall  start  the  first 
day  of  September,  as  Mr.  King  has  finished  his  business 
and  Electa  is  wild  to  see  her  children.  I  think  I  shall 
give  '  talks  '  all  winter  and  invite  you  over  to  Sudbury 


THE   COST   OF   WOMANHOOD.  361 

Street,  with  your  sewing,  for  I  never  shall  be  talked 
out." 

It  was  wonderful.  Doris  had  to  read  the  letter  over 
and  over.  It  had  listeners  at  the  Royall  house  who  said 
it  was  a  perfect  romance,  and  at  the  Leveretts'  they  re 
joiced  greatly. 

"  I  declare!  "  exclaimed  Aunt  Priscilla,  "  if  you  should 
live  to  be  fifty  or  sixty,  and  everybody  go  on  leaving  you 
fortunes,  you  won't  know  what  to  do  with  your  money. 
They're  filling  up  the  Mill  Pond  and  the  big  ma'sh  and 
going  to  lay  out  streets.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it! 
Foster  Leverett  held  on  to  his  legacy  because  he  couldn't 
sell  it,  and  now  Warren  has  been  offered  a  good  sum. 
Mary  Manning  will  pinch  herself  blue  to  think  she  sold 
out  when  she  did.  I'm  just  glad  for  Warren.  And 
Gary  '11  know  so  much  law  that  he  will  look  out  for 
you." 

It  was  a  beautiful  autumn,  for  a  wonder.  Summer 
seemed  loath  to  depart  or  allow  the  flame-colored  finger 
of  Fall  to  place  her  seal  on  the  glowing  foliage.  But  it 
was  the  last  of  October  when  Betty  reached  Boston,  con 
voyed  by  a  very  old-time  New  England  woman  going  on 
to  Newburyport. 

"  For  you  know,"  said  Betty,  "  the  French  are  very 
particular  about  a  young  woman  traveling  alone,  but  we 
did  have  a  hunt  to  find  someone  coming  to  Boston. 
Otherwise  M'sieur  Henri — you  see  how  apt  I  am  in 
French — could  not  have  accompanied  me." 

M.  de  la  Maur  was  a  very  nice-looking  young  man, 
not  as  tall  as  Gary,  but  with  a  graceful  and  manly  figure, 
soft  dark  eyes,  and  hair  that  just  missed  being  black,  a 
clear  complexion  and  fine  color,  and  a  small  line  of  mus 
tache.  As  to  manners  he  was  really  charming,  and  so 
well-read  that  Mr.  Winthrop  Adams  took  to  him  at  once. 
He  was  conversant  with  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  the 


362        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

plays  of  Racine  and  Moliere,  and  the  causes  that  had  led 
to  the  French  Revolution,  and  had  been  in  Paris  through 
the  famous  "  Hundred  Days."  Of  course  he  was  bitter 
against  Napoleon. 

The  inheritance  part  was  soon  settled.  Doris  would 
have  about  three  thousand  dollars.  But  De  la  Maur 
took  a  great  fancy  to  Boston,  and  the  Royall  family  ap 
proved  of  him.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sargent  had  returned  this 
fall  and  the  old  house  was  a  center  of  attractive  gayeties. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  think  Cousin  Henri  is  in  love  with 
Betty,"  said  Doris,  with  a  feminine  habit  of  guessing  at 
love  matters.  "  But  she  insists  she  will  never  live 
abroad,  and  Cousin  Henri  thinks  Paris  is  the  center  of 
the  world." 

"  How  will  they  manage?  " 

Doris  laughed.     She  did  not  just  see  herself. 

But  Betty's  romance  came  to  light  presently.  It  had 
begun  during  her  winter  in  New  York,  but  it  had  not  run 
smoothly.  Betty  had  a  rather  quick  wit  and  was  fond 
of  teasing,  and  there  had  been  "  differences  "  not  easily 
settled.  Mr.  Harman  Gaynor  had  risen  to  the  distinc 
tion  of  a  partnership  in  the  King  firm,  and  on  meeting 
Betty  again,  with  the  young  Frenchman  at  her  elbow, 
had  presented  his  claim  in  such  a  way  that  Betty  yielded. 
When  Mr.  Gaynor  came  to  Boston  to  have  a  conference 
with  Mrs.  Leverett — for  fathers  and  mothers  still  had 
authority  in  such  matters — Betty's  engagement  was 
announced  and  the  marriage  set  for  spring. 

Somehow  it  was  a  delightful  winter.  But  after  a  little 
one  person  began  to  feel  strangely  apprehensive,  and  this 
was  Cary  Adams. 

"  I  suppose  Doris  and  her  third-  or  fourth-cousin  will 
make  a  match?  "  Madam  Royall  said  one  evening  when 
tfiey  had  been  playing  morris  and  she  had  won  the  rub 
ber.  "  How  can  you  let  her  go  away?  " 


THE   COST   OF   WOMANHOOD.  363 

"  She  will  never  leave  father,"  exclaimed  Gary  con 
fidently. 

There  was  a  sudden  stricture  all  over  his  body.  It 
seemed  as  if  some  cold  hand  had  clutched  both  heart  and 
brain. 

He  walked  home  in  the  bright,  fresh  air.  It  was  barely 
ten.  He  passed  De  la  Maur  on  the  way  and  they  greeted 
each  other.  The  parlor  windows  were  darkened,  his 
father  was  alone  in  the  study,  and  everyone  else  had  gone 
to  bed. 

"  I  wish  you  had  been  home,"  said  his  father  glancing 
up.  "  De  la  Maur  has  been  reciting  Racine,  and  I  have 
never  heard  anything  finer!  I  wish  he  could  read 
Shakspere.  He  certainly  is  a  delightful  person,  so  cul 
tured  and  appreciative.  It  makes  me  feel  that  we  really 
are  a  new  people." 

Could  no  one  see  the  danger?  How  happened  it  his 
father  was  so  blind?  Did  Doris  really  care?  She  had 
not  loved  Captain  Hawthorne,  a  man  worthy  of  any 
woman's  love.  Gary  had  a  confident  feeling  that  in  five 
years  they  would  see  him  again.  But  he  would  be  too 
old  for  Doris — thirteen  years  between  them.  Yet  his 
father  had  been  fifteen  years  older  than  his  mother. 
Doris  was  so  guileless,  so  simply  honest,  and  if  she  loved 
— how  curiously  she  had  kept  from  friendships  or  inti 
macies  with  young  men!  Eudora  had  a  train  of  ad 
mirers.  So  had  Helen  and  Alice  in  their  day. 

When  he  had  met  Mrs.  Sargent  he  knew  it  had  only 
been  a  boyish  fancy  for  Alice  Royall,  and  it  had  merely 
shaped  and  strengthened  the  ardent  desire  of  youth  to 
go  to  his  country's  defense.  He  was  a  man  now,  and 
capable  of  loving  with  supreme  tenderness  and  strength. 
Yet  he  had  seen  no  woman  to  whom  he  cared  to  pour  out 
the  first  sweet  draught  of  a  man's  regard. 

But  Doris  must  not  go  away,  she  could  not. 


364       A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

Morning,  noon,  and  night  he  watched  her.  She  pre 
pared  his  father's  toast,  she  chatted  with  him  and  often 
coaxed  him  to  taste  this  or  that,  for  his  appetite  was  slen 
der.  On  sunny  mornings  they  went  to  drive,  or  if  not 
she  brought  her  sewing  and  sat  in  the  study,  listened  and 
discussed  the  subjects  he  loved,  and  was  enthusiastic 
about  the  Boston  that  was  to  be,  that  they  both  saw  with 
the  eye  of  faith.  While  he  took  his  siesta  she  ran  up  to 
Sudbury  Street,  or  did  an  errand.  Later  in  the  afternoon 
there  would  be  calls.  There  was  a  sideboard  at  the  end 
of  the  hall  where  a  bottle  or  two  of  wine  were  kept,  as 
was  the  custom  then,  and  a  plate  of  cake. 

Doris  brought  in  a  fashion  of  offering  tea  or  sometimes 
mulled  cider  on  a  cold  day.  But  Miss  Recompense 
made  delicious  tea,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  took  it 
just  to  see  Doris  drop  in  the  lump  of  sugar  so  daintily. 

If  they  were  at  home  there  was  always  company  in  the 
evening,  unless  the  night  was  very  stormy.  De  la  Maur 
generally  made  one  of  the  guests.  If  they  were  alone 
tfiey  had  a  charming  evening  in  the  study. 

The  young  Frenchman  was  most  punctilious.  He 
might  take  a  few  cousinly  freedoms,  but  he  never  offered 
any  that  were  lover-like.  So  it  was  the  more  easy  for 
Doris  to  persuade  herself  that  it  was  merely  relationship. 
Occasionally  the  eloquence  of  his  eyes  quite  unnerved 
her.  She  cunningly  sheltered  herself  beside  Eudora 
when  it  was  possible. 

But  De  la  Maur's  regard  grew  apace.  It  would  not 
be  honorable  to  come  without  declaring  his  intentions. 
And  the  American  fashion  of  being  engaged  was  ex 
tremely  fascinating  to  him.  He  wanted  the  more  than 
cousinly  privileges. 

So  it  happened  one  night  Betty  and  Warren  came  over 
with  a  piece  of  music  Mrs.  King  had  sent,  a  song  by 
Moore,  the  Irish  poet.  Doris  went  to  the  parlor  to  try  it. 


THE   COST   OF   WOMANHOOD.  365 

That  was  De  la  Maur's  golden  opportunity,  and  he  could 
not  allow  it  to  slip.  In  a  most  deferential  manner  he  laid 
his  case  before  her  relative  and  guardian  and  begged  per 
mission  to  address  Miss  Doris. 

Winthrop  Adams  was  utterly  amazed  at  the  first  mo 
ment.  Then  he  recovered  himself.  Doris  was  a  young 
lady.  One  friend  and  another  was  being  given  in  mar 
riage,  and  Doris  naturally  would  have  lovers.  There  was 
one  that  he  had  hoped — but  he  had  never  seen  any  real 
indication. 

"  It  is  true  that  I  like  my  own  Paris  best,  but  if  Miss 
Doris  longed  to  stay  here  a  few  years,  I  would  make 
myself  content.  But  you  will  understand — I  could  not 
come  any  longer  without  explaining;  and  this  time  you 
allow  young  people — betrothment — looks  so  attractive. 
May  I  ask  and  learn  her  sentiments,  since  young  ladies 
choose  for  themselves?  " 

What  could  he  do  but  consent?  If  Doris  should  not 
love  him 

"  Good-night  Uncle  Win,"  cried  Betty  from  the  hall. 
"  Good-night,  M.  De  la  Maur." 

Doris  was  replacing  some  music  in  the  portfolio. 
Cousin  Henri  crossed  the  room  and  she  saw  a  mysterious 
sweetness  in  his  face  as  he  took  her  hand. 

"  Ma  chere  amie  Cousin  Doris,  I  have  just  explained  to 
your  uncle  my  sentiments  concerning  you,  and  have  his 
permission  to  ask  for  your  regard.  I  love  you  very 
dearly.  Will  you  be  my  wife?  " 

Doris  drew  her  hand  away  and  was  pale  and  red  by 
turns,  while  her  throat  constricted  and  her  breath  came 
in  great  bounds. 

"  I  am  so  sorry.  I  tried  not  to  be — I  did  not  want 
anything  like  this  to  happen — but  sometimes  I  felt 
afraid,"  she  stammered  in  her  embarrassment.  "  I  like 
you  very  much.  But  I  do  not  want  to  marry  or  to  be 


366        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

engaged.  I  shall  stay  with  my  uncle.  I  shall  never  go 
away  from  the  country  of  my  adoption." 

"  But  if  I  were  willing  to  remain  a  while — so  long  as 
your  uncle  lived?  I  do  not  wonder  you  love  him  very 
much.  He  is  a  charming  gentleman.  I  have  no  parents 
to  bid  me  stay  at  home,  I  need  consult  only  you  and 
myself." 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  Do  not  compel  me  to  pain  you  by  con 
tinued  refusals.  I  cannot  consent.  I  will  always  be 
friend  and  cousin — I  do  not  love  anyone " 

"  Then  if  you  do  not  love  anyone  this  friendship  might 
ripen  into  a  sweet  regard.  Oh,  Doris,  I  had  hardly 
thought  so  deep  a  love  possible." 

His  imploring  tone  touched  her.  But  she  drew  back 
farther  and  said  in  a  more  decisive  tone:  "  Oh,  no,  no! 
I  cannot  promise." 

He  was  too  gentlemanly  to  persist  in  his  pleading. 
But  he  was  confident  he  had  Mr.  Adams  on  his  side. 
And  at  home  the  desires  of  parents  and  guardians 
counted  for  a  great  deal. 

"  My  dear  cousin,  will  you  talk  this  matter  over  with 
your  uncle?  You  may  look  at  it  in  a  different  light. 
And  I  shall  remain  your  ardent  admirer  until  I  am  con 
vinced.  Since  you  have  no  lover " 

Doris  Adams  suddenly  straightened  her  pliant  young 
figure.  Some  dignity  was  born  in  her  face  and  in  the 
clear  eyes  she  raised,  too  pure  to  doubt  anything  or  to 
fear  anything,  sure  for  a  moment  that  she  possessed  every 
pulse  and  thought  and  knowledge  of  her  own  soul,  then 
beset  by  a  strange  shadowy  misgiving  that  she  had 
reached  a  curious  crisis  in  her  life  that  she  did  not  know 
of  an  instant  ago. 

But  she  said  bravely,  though  there  was  a  quiver  in  her 
breath  that  she  tried  to  keep  from  her  voice : 

"  Let  us  remain  cousins  merely.     My  duty  is  here. 


THE   BLOOM   OF   LIFE— LOVE.  367 

My  love  is  here  also — to  the  best  of  fathers,  the  tenderest 
of  friends.  I  cannot  share  it  with  anyone." 

De  la  Maur  bowed  and  went  slowly  out  of  the  apart 
ment. 

CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE    BLOOM    OF    LIFE LOVE. 

p\ORIS  flew  to  the  study.  Uncle  Winthrop's  eyes 
*-*  were  bent  on  his  book  and  his  face  partly  turned 
aside.  He  had  been  making  a  brave  fight.  A  man  of  a 
less  fine  strain  of  honor  would  not  have  answered  the 
brave  young  lover  as  he  had  done.  He  could  not  have 
answered  him  thus  if  he  had  not  liked  Henri  de  la  Maur 
so  well,  and  loved  Doris  with  such  singleness  of  heart. 

He  heard  her  step  and  put  out  his  hand  without  mov 
ing.  His  tone  was  very  low. 

"  Is  it— France?  " 

"France!  Oh,  Uncle  Win!  When  I  belong  to  you 
and  Boston?  " 

Her  arms  were  around  his  neck.  His  heart,  his  whole 
body,  seemed  to  give  one  great  throb  of  joy  as  he  drew 
her  down  to  his  knee.  There  had  been  only  one  other 
experience  in  life  as  sweet. 

"  And  you  would  have  sent  me  away !  "  with  a  soft, 
broken  upbraiding  in  which  love  was  uppermost. 

"  No,  child,  no.  God  forbid,  Doris,  now  that  you  are 
not  going,  I  will  confess — I  think  I  should  have  died  be 
fore  the  parting  came.  But,  my  little  girl,  I  must  say 
this  in  memory  of  two  sweet  years  of  wedded  life — there 
is  no  happiness  comparable  to  it.  And  to  accept  your 
youth,  your  golden  period  that  never  dawns  but  once  on 
any  human  being,  to  gladden  my  declining  years  would 
be  a  selfish  sin.  I  once  had  a  dream — but  it  came  to 
naught " — he  drew  a  long  breath  as  if  the  remembrance 


368        A   LITTLE   GIRL  IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

pained  him.  "  You  must  be  quite  free,  dear,  to  love  and 
to  marry.  All  these  years  with  you  have  been  so 
precious,  but  sometime  I  shall  go  my  way,  and  I  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  your  being  left  alone!  " 

"  I  shall  stay  with  you.  I — there  can  never  be  any 
home  like  this — any  love  like  yours " 

The  hall  door  opened  and  shut  slowly.  That  was 
Gary's  step.  She  could  not  meet  him  here.  She 
kissed  Uncle  Win  vehemently  and  flashed  past  the 
young  man  standing  there  almost  in  the  doorway  with  a 
white,  strained  face.  The  great  armchair  was  in  her  way 
and  she  half  stumbled  over  it.  Then  some  other  arms 
caught  her  and  she  had  no  strength  to  struggle.  Did 
she  want  to? 

"  Doris!  Doris!  Was  it  true  what  you  said  just  now 
— that  no  home  could  be  like  this,  and  your  love  for  him, 
which  has  been  that  of  a  tender  daughter — his  love  for 
you — is  there  room  for  another  regard  still?  for,  Doris,  I 
love  you!  I  want  you.  I  have  been  wild  and  jealous 
since  I  have  suspected,  since  I  have  really  known  or 
guessed  your  cousin's  intentions.  I  did  not  suspect  at 
first — there  were  Betty  and  Eudora — and  an  old  regard 
waiting  for  you,  but  now  I  can  think  of  only  one  thing, 
that  has  been  in  my  mind  day  and  night  for  the  last  fort 
night,  that  I  love  you  as  well  as  the  others ;  only  it  seems 
a  small  and  ignoble  matter  to  appeal  to  your  affection 
for  my  father  and  the  old  home.  But  I  want  your  love, 
your  sweetness,  your  precious  faith,  the  trust  of  your 
coming  womanhood,  your  own  sweet  self.  I'm  not  a 
handsome  fellow  like  Captain  Hawthorne,  nor  accom 
plished  like  De  la  Maur,  but  I  shall  love  you  to  my  life's 
end,  Doris!" 

They  sat  down  on  the  step  of  the  old  staircase  and  he 
could  feel  the  tremble  in  every  pulse  of  her  slim  young 
figure.  Was  it  the  strange  mystery  that  had  come  to  her 


THE   BLOOM   OF   LIFE— LOVE.  369 

half  an  hour  ago  in  the  parlor  opposite,  a  something  that 
was  not  knowledge,  but  a  vague  consciousness  that  there 
was  a  person  in  the  world  who  could  say  the  words  that 
would  thrill  her  with  delight  instead  of  bringing  sorrow 
and  regret! 

"  All  that  is  a  very  illogical  and  incoherent  presenta 
tion.  I  must  do  better  when  I  come  to  argue  my  first 
case,"  and  he  gave  a  joyous  little  laugh.  For  he  knew  if 
Doris  meant  to  say  him  "  Nay,"  she  would  not  let  her 
head  droop  on  his  shoulder,  or  yield  to  the  clasp  of  his 
arm.  And  suddenly  his  soul  was  filled  with  infinite  pity 
for  Hawthorne,  and — yes — he  felt  sorry  for  De  la  Maur. 

"  Doris — is  it  a  little  for  my  own  sake?" 

A  breath  of  happy  content  swept  over  her  like  a  sum 
mer  wind  coming  from  some  mysterious  world. 

"  You  have  been  an  angel  of  comfort  to  both  of  us.  I 
don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  in  that  unhappy 
time  if  it  had  not  been  for  you.  But  Hawthorne's  regard 
made  it  a  point  of  honor  with  me.  Could  you  have  loved 
him,  Doris?  He  is  such  a  fine  fellow." 

He  noted  the  little  shrinking,  he  was  holding  her  so 
close. 

"  Not  in  that  way,"  and  her  reply  was  a  soft  whisper. 

*'Thank  Heaven!  But  I  want  to  hear  you  say — oh, 
my  darling,  I  want  the  assurance  that  I  shall  be  dear  to 
you,  that  it  is  not  all  because " 

"  I  should  stay  for  Uncle  Win's  sake.  I  think  Miss 
Recompense  finds  a  great  many  sources  of  happiness  in 
a  single  life.  But  if  I  promised  you,  it  would  be  because 
— because — I  loved  you." 

tl  Then  promise  me,"  he  cried  enraptured.  "  I  love 
you  dearly,  if  I  haven't  been  much  of  a  lover.  I  have 
said  to  myself  that  I  was  waiting  for  Hawthorne's  five 
years  to  end,  or  to  do  something  worthy  of  you.  And 
now,  Doris,  I  know  what  fighting  means,  and  I  would 


370        A   LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

fight  to  the  death  for  you.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  selfish 
and  exigent  to  the  last  degree." 

He  felt  the  delicate  revelation  in  the  warmth  of  her 
cheek,  the  tremble  of  the  soft  hands,  the  relaxation  of  her 
whole  body.  And  a  kind  of  solemn  exultation  filled  his 
soul.  Except  the  youthful  episode  with  Alice  Royall,  he 
had  never  sincerely  cared  for  any  woman,  and  he  was 
very  glad  he  could  give  Doris  the  first  offering  of  a  man's 
love  as  he  understood  it  now. 

And  then  for  a  long  while  neither  spoke,  except  in 
kisses — love's  own  language.  Every  moment  the  mys 
tery  seemed  to  grow  upon  Doris,  to  unfold  as  well,  to 
pass  the  line  of  girlhood,  to  accept  the  crown  of  a  woman's 
life.  It  had  been  very  simply  sweet.  Some  other 
woman  might  have  made  a  rather  tragic  episode  of  her 
two  lovers.  Doris  pitied  them  sincerely,  but  they  both 
had  the  deepest  sympathy  from  Gary  Adams. 

"  Let  us  go  to  him,"  Gary  exclaimed  presently,  rising, 
with  his  arm  still  about  her. 

There  were  two  wax  candles  burning  in  their  sconces 
that  had  been  made  over  forty  years  ago  in  Paul  Re- 
vere's  foundry.  By  the  softened  light  Gary  glanced  at 
the  flushed  face,  downcast  eyes  and  dewy,  tremulous  lips. 
Half  the  sweet  story  was  still  untold,  but  there  would  be 
years  and  years.  Oh,  Heaven  grant  they  might  have 
them  together!  And  at  this  instant  he  was  filled  with  a 
profound  sympathy  for  his  father's  loss  and  lonely  life. 

They  walked  slowly  through  the  hall  and  paused  a 
moment  in  the  doorway.  Winthrop  Adams  was  leaning 
his  head  on  his  hand,  and  the  lamp  a  little  at  the  side 
threw  up  his  thin,  finely  cut  features,  as  if  they  had  been 
done  in  marble,  and  he  was  almost  as  pale.  The  exulta 
tion  went  out  of  the  soul  of  the  young  lover,  and  a  rush 
of  tenderness  such  as  he  had  never  experienced  before 
swept  through  him. 


THE  BLOOM   OF   LIFE— LOVE.  371 

"  Father,"  he  said  softly,  touching  him  on  the  shoulder, 
"  father — will  you  give  me  Doris,  for  your  claim  is  first? 
Will  you  accept  me  as  her  lover,  sometime  to  be  her  hus 
band,  always  to  be  your  son,  and  your  daughter?  " 

Winthrop  Adams  rose  half-bewildered.  Had  the 
secret  hope  of  his  soul  unfolded  in  blessed  fruition?  He 
looked  from  one  to  the  other,  then  his  glance  rested  on 
his  son — their  eyes  met,  and  in  that  instant  they  came  to 
know  each  other  as  they  never  had  before,  to  understand, 
to  comprehend  all  that  was  in  the  tie  of  nature.  He 
laid  one  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder,  the  other  clasped 
the  slim  virginal  figure,  no  longer  a  little  girl,  but  whose 
girlhood  and  affectionate  devotion  would  always  fill  both 
hearts. 

"  Doris,  my  child — you  are  quite  sure "  He  could 

not  have  his  son  defrauded  of  any  sweetness. 

Doris  raised  her  downcast  eyes  and  smiled,  while  the 
pink  flush  was  like  a  rosy  gleam  of  sunrise.  Then  she 
laid  her  hand  over  both  of  the  others'  in  a  tender,  caress 
ing  fashion.  But  she  was  too  deeply  moved  for  words. 

Winthrop  Adams  kissed  her  fair  brow,  but  her  lover 
kissed  her  on  the  sweet,  rosy  lips. 

They  announced  the  engagement  almost  at  once.  It 
was  done  partly  for  De  la  Maur's  sake,  though  after  the 
first  he  took  it  quite  philosophically.  There  were  three 
people  supremely  happy  over  it.  Miss  Recompense, 
IVtadam  Royall, — who  declared  she  would  have  been  dis 
appointed  in  Providence  if  it  had  been  any  other  way, — 
and  Cousin  Betty,  who  was  happy  as  a  queen  in  her  own 
life,  though  why  we  should  make  royalty  a  synonym 
for  happiness  I  do  not  know. 

"  You  never  could  have  left  Uncle  Win,"  wrote  Betty, 
"  and  Gary  could  not  have  gone  away,  neither  could  he 
have  brought  home  a  strange  woman.  This  was  the  only 
satisfactory  ending.  But  I  hope  you  will  be  awfully  in 


372        A  LITTLE   GIRL   IN   OLD   BOSTON. 

love  with  each  other  and  sweet — and  silly  and  all  that.  I 
am  sorry  for  Captain  Hawthorne,  for,  Doris,  he  loved  you 
sincerely,  but  your  French  cousin  can  console  himself 
with  an  English  rhyme: 

"  '  If  she  be  not  fair  for  me, 

What  care  I  how  fair  she  be  ?  '  " 

And  oddly  enough  a  few  months  later  he  did  console 
himself  with  Eudora  Chapman. 

Just  a  few  years  afterward  there  was  a  great  time  in 
Boston.  For  she  had  adopted  a  charter  and  become  a 
real  city,  after  long  and  earnest  discussion.  There  was 
a  grand  celebration  and  no  end  of  dinners,  and  young 
Gary  Adams  made  one  of  the  addresses.  Mr.  Winthrop 
Adams  insisted  that  his  life  work  was  done,  but  he  lived 
to  be  interested  in  many  more  improvements,  and  some 
charming  grandchildren. 

"  But  after  all,"  Doris  would  declare,  "  splendid  as  it  is 
going  to  be,  I  am  glad  to  belong  to  Old  Boston  with  her 
lanes  and  byways  and  rough  hills  and  marsh  lands,  with 
their  billowy  grasses  and  wild  flowers,  and  great  gardens 
full  of  fruit  trees,  and  the  little  old  shops  and  people  sit 
ting  on  front  stoops  sewing  or  reading  or  chatting  cozily. 
And  what  a  pleasure  it  will  be  by  and  by  to  tell  the  chil 
dren  that  I  was  a  little  girl  in  Old  Boston." 


THE   END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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